Chuck vs the Hunt
by MyNameIsJeffNImLost
Summary: 5th in "Averages" crossover series, after "Castle vs the Law of Averages," "Caskett vs Dr Morgan," "Beckett vs the Linchpin," and "Chuck vs 3XK." Takes place a about a year after the Chuck finale and starts during Castle 5.15, "Target," finishing with its sequel Castle 5.16, "Hunt."
1. The Right Call

_Posted 1 Feb 2019_

A/N 1: Thanks to sage1000 for first making an observation in February 2013 that I expanded into this story, though it took me some time to publish. (Others, like giant00, came up with a similar thought independently, months later.)

A/N 2: This story is the fifth of one of my two crossover series. This series's first story was the Awesome Award-winning "Castle vs the Law of Averages." (It won the 2011 Bryce Larkin Memorial Award For Best Crossover Story.) In this series, that story was followed by the one-shots "Caskett vs Dr Morgan," post-Chuck series story "Beckett vs the Linchpin," and "Chuck vs 3XK." This series is compatible with, but not linked to, "Chuck & Sarah vs Their Next Adventure." This series is unrelated to my Castle/alternating Stargate: SG-1 & Chuck series, which starts with "This Never Happened."

This story begins during the first half of the _Castle_ 's season five two-parter, which is composed of the shows "Target" and "Hunt." Those were broadcast in early 2013. That was a while ago, so if you need details from those _Castle_ episodes, just PM me. They took place a year after the _Chuck_ series finale. Castle and Beckett were officially together in season 5, but as a secret couple. Only their family and a few friends/coworkers knew for certain. I have Chuck and Sarah back together for a year by then, with them fully together starting right after the beach scene in the finale. Sarah has most of her memory back, but still has occasional holes. No one remembers everything anyway, but her memory gaps are more glaring when they come up. Chuck helps her when needed, and she wouldn't rather be anywhere but with Chuck.

(The story is unrelated to the 1989 version of _Brenda Starr_. 'What?' you say. It comes from a couple guest appearances, which completely are unrelated to that story and which I didn't even know about and haven't seen.)

Disclaimer: Nobody else owns anything here, so why would I?

Disclaimer 2: No beta. Why would I sucker/obligate/subject anyone into reading this when they didn't want to? However, if you PM me corrections, I'll fix them.

* * *

"You do whatever you have to to get that man his little girl back."

Back at her desk, Kate hesitated for a minute. She made the call.

* * *

Detective Kate Beckett approached the farmhouse in her Charger. The surrounding area was a flurry of activity. Several standard-issue, federal black SUVs and local police squad cars were arranged randomly, preventing her from driving closer. She winced slightly at the coroner's vehicle. She hoped Castle hadn't seen it. Sparing a glance in his direction, she saw he was too focused on their destination.

"Remember, Alexis is not here, but we'll find your daughter." Beckett was trying to sound reassuring, hoping to discourage her partner from rushing off into the crime scene. They were well outside of New York City limits, so technically, this was the jurisdiction of the Feds first and state police second. She didn't need her and her partner to be thrown out because he couldn't remain calm.

He wasn't calm last night, when he rushed the abandoned van to see the blood smeared across the floor. Even knowing that was the driver's blood, not his daughter's or that of the other kidnap victim, Sara El-Masri, he barely held it together. That scene did motivate him to the unexpected actions that revealed this house as a lead. Beckett didn't know her writer was capable of inflicting those actions on another. She suspected if Castle was with her at the Bracken's political rally last fall, the senator would have left in worse shape than a pistol whipping scar. She didn't want to think about her partner's dark side that he used when standing up for his family.

Once she had the car in park, Castle hurried out towards the house where Alexis had been just hours before. Beckett tried her best to keep up, while still looking professional and composed. Compartmentalization was a forte of hers, but the skill was being pushed to its limits on this case. Losing his daughter could destroy Castle.

She noticed someone in the back seat of one of the SUVs, but couldn't see more because of the tinted glass. Maybe they had a suspect.

They met up with FBI Agent Harris. Castle asked about cellars and hidden rooms/ His questions were laced with desperation. Harris explained the kidnappers were sophisticated. They streamed a video of the raid across four continents to an anonymous IP address. This information wasn't helping keep Castle calm. Yesterday, when they thought only Sara was missing, no one knowing about Alexis, the FBI Agent said he wanted the kidnappees' families scared because it would keep them cooperative. Harris didn't know Castle. Her boyfriend was reckless when he was scared.

At least the tortured and dead body in the farmhouse was not Alexis. The fact that the kidnappers had turned on each other was not reassuring, though. Harris had no explanation.

"I saw you have someone in custody. Is that a suspect or a witness?" Beckett asked.

"That would be me." Beckett turned and saw Chuck Bartowski. He did get her message after all, even though she left it with a Nerd Herder at the Buy More.

Chuck's happy-go-lucky tone was completely out of place at this crime scene. She could tell the instant he saw the blood. The tall, lanky man could barely handle the sight of it.

"How did you get out? Stay right where you are," Agent Harris ordered. He moved for his gun.

"You shouldn't," came a casual sounding voice from behind Chuck. A tall blonde stepped through the door. The FBI agent didn't heed the warning and pulled his gun anyway. Chuck's head twitched, and he blinked several times.

The gun ended up across the floor.

Beckett had never seen anyone move that fast outside of a movie. This time, there were no special effects, camera angles, or editing to help. Chuck had kicked it loose that fast.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Oh so sorry. Let me get that for you." Harris watched in shock as Chuck awkwardly hurried over to the side and reached behind a chair where the gun had slid. He retrieved the weapon and handed it back to the agent. "It's been awhile since I've had a gun pointed at me. I just reacted. I'm Chuck Bartowski. You can call me Chuck. This is my wife, Sarah Walker." Chuck offered his hand to shake.

Harris took the weapon and immediately raised it back on Chuck, but not before stepping back, out of reach. Chuck held his hands up as Sarah strode over to inspect the body.

"It's ok. They're with me," Beckett said. That was enough for most of the people in the room. The crime scene techs were professionals and returned to their work. Harris, trying to salvage his pride, looked unconvinced.

Castle jumped in, "You called Carmichael Industries? How are two—"

"Computer security consultants," Sarah provided.

"—going to help with a kidnapping?" Castle finished. Beckett and Castle might know that Chuck and Sarah used to work for the CIA, but that didn't mean they were allowed to tell anyone else. She called the Buy More, which in a way was much worse and a bigger gamble. She just had the contact number from a couple years before when Chuck first gave her his card.

Chuck, still holding his hands up, resumed his babbling, "I'm really sorry. I hope your hand is ok. I could get you an aspirin or something. We're only here to help. I was trying to explain as you were preparing your tactical assault, the place is empty and the only heat signature was someone who had been dead for several hours."

The medical examiner agreed that Roger Benton had been dead for twelve to fourteen hours.

"Heat signature?" Beckett inquired.

"Right. If someone could get me my tablet, I could bring up the infrared satellite feed of this house. I moved it into orbit above New York City when I received your message, and when we picked up the location of this house from the FBI communication network—"

"You're in our network?" Harris was even more in shock.

"Well, yes. We have white hat hacking contracts with the NSA, CIA, and FBI. We're allowed."

Beckett noticed Harris started to droop his weapon, realizing that maybe Chuck wasn't a threat, even if he was still smarting from being disarmed by this apparent geek. "Get the man his tablet." One of the techs already had it ready to hand-off and quickly did so with a tiny smirk the lead agent couldn't see.

After a few seconds Chuck held out the tablet where Harris, Beckett, and Castle could all see. "See. There we all are." Chuck looked up and waved at the ceiling, even though the resolution wasn't enough to distinguish his motion. "That hot spot is my lovely wife, and there's the man who was tortured and has been dead for a while." The color of the body in the chair was not as dark as the live bodies. "I don't know when they left, but they weren't here when I positioned the satellite."

Harris was impressed enough with the tech show that he holstered his weapon, but he was still as grumpy as ever. "Detective Beckett, bringing in outside consultants is not a good idea."

Sarah responded for her. "I know the FBI has the 'experts' on kidnappings, but that's not what this is." The sarcasm around experts was clear. "This is hostage rescue, and for that you need people like us."

"Hostage rescue. What are you talking about?"

"See his fingernails." She pointed.

"Yes, he was tortured."

"No one uses that technique any more. Most people just use tweezers and pull. These were peeled off. It was taught at the Farm in the sixties. That makes the torturer about 70 years old."

"How does being a computer consultant make you an expert on torture techniques?"

"Chuck is the computer expert, my background is more esoteric."

"Torture techniques of the 1960s?"

"Have _you_ ever been tortured Agent Harris?" The implication was clear. She had been.

Before Harris could formulate a response, Chuck jumped in, "I've traced the video feed to an address in… Sarah, I need to go."

"Chuck. Where?" He held the tablet where only Sarah could see.

"I'll go."

"No. It's a computer thing. I need to be there."

"No, Chuck. We'll both go."

"Someone has to stay here and coordinate. Too bad we didn't bring Morgan."

"I'll have him fly in."

"By then I'll be done. In and out. No problem."

"Chuck!"

The tall man immediately stopped under the fierce glare of his wife. Chuck was the tallest man in the room, with Sarah only a fraction lower in her spiked heels, but he seemed to shrink in front of her. His eyes popped into saucers. Everyone could almost hear the gulp.

After a half minute of silence, with even the techs watching, Chuck relaxed and gave her a lopsided grin. A few seconds later, "Fine! But you better be careful." Chuck must have won the stare down as indicated by Sarah's concession statement. Sarah pulled hard on Chuck's neck to what ended in a surprisingly soft kiss.

Chuck started to leave, but Agent Harris stepped in the way to cut off the exit. "Where do you think you're going?"

Chuck wasn't even looking at him. "I'm going to find Alexis Castle." He tapped and swiped away at his tablet barely looking at and stopping before the person in his way. "Sorry, but I really need to hurry. If I leave now I can catch a flight at JFK in an hour."

An hour? JFK was at least two hours away in traffic. Really three. They weren't even in the city.

Chuck held up his left hand, and Sarah flipped her keys at him, none too gently or even aimed well. For an instant, Chuck shuddered and looked like he would miss them, but at the last second his hand darted out and he grabbed them at an odd angle. It looked like he darted out his hand to exactly the right place.

Agent Harris held his hand to Chuck's chest to stop him. Didn't this guy ever learn? He'd been disarmed once already.

"Excuse me, I really, really do need to hurry. If I don't leave now, even the Porsche we rented won't get me there fast enough," Chuck tried to insist.

"Mr Carmichael—" Agent Harris's hand was by his gun. That was just being stupid. He'd never be able to draw in close quarters. Then again, he didn't know he was dealing with an ex-CIA agent.

"It's Bartowski actually, and while I appreciate what you're trying to do, if you don't let me pass, my wife will soon put you on two weeks of medical leave."

Impressively, Sarah didn't smirk. Kate didn't think she would've been able to resist if someone had just insinuated that she would put them in the hospital.

It didn't pass her notice that Sarah's right hand was at her back waistband. There wasn't the bulge of a gun. Maybe a knife?

When the FBI agent looked at the women for a second, Chuck twisted at an unexpected angle and escaped through the door. Harris was confused about what just happened, but it was too late, now.

The FBI agent tried to reassert some control, "Detective Beckett, I don't know what you were thinking bringing in consultants without at least talking to me. I told you it's important to keep control of the situation—"

Before Kate could answer for herself, Sarah said, "I'm sure she was just trying to do everything possible to bring the girls home safely. Doing everything possible means having us be here to rescue her. It was the right call. How about we go back to the precinct and sort out the jurisdiction?"

"Jurisdiction? This is a kidnapping. That's FBI jurisdiction."

"You're assuming Alexis and Sara are still in the country." Sarah started for the door.

"In the country?! We're not done here."

"I'm sure these people will contact us if they find out anything here, but I've seen all I need to see. Beckett, Castle, let's go. Chuck took my ride." The detective and her partner followed.

After a few moments, Harris gave up and went after them.


	2. Who's the Boss?

_Posted 2 Feb 2019_

* * *

 _ **NYPD - Twelfth Precinct**_

Captain Victoria Gates was not happy. When she told Detective Beckett to do whatever it takes, never in her wildest imagination did she think that would include fighting with the FBI. This had to be Castle's fault. What wasn't? If that man wasn't friends with the mayor… The last thing she needed was to _not_ recover the kidnapped daughter of someone so politically connected. When this all went south, she just hoped that her superiors at 1PP knew where the blame should go and she wouldn't get any of the blame.

Jurisdictional fighting was the worst.

"Castle didn't call them, sir. I did," Detective Beckett said.

Great. It was the fault of a detective in her precinct, not the consultant she never wanted. The crazy had fully rubbed off. It probably wasn't a good idea to leave her on this case no matter how good she was. Beckett probably knew Alexis Castle fairly well. After all, the writer and his muse had to have been sleeping together for four years.

Gates took a deep breath, dreading the answer to her question, "Why would you bring in outside consultants?"

"You told me to do whatever it takes."

Yep, that was the answer she didn't want. Gates did not want this coming back on her. Her detective had indicated this craziness started with Gates's idea. "So you thought that meant bringing in two civilians to attack an FBI agent?" She looked over at Agent Harris, the other person in her office. He was a little too pleased with the dressing down she was giving her detective, considering he was the idiot who had been disarmed.

"I believe Carmichael Industries gives us a better chance at recovering Sara El'Masri and Alexis Castle."

"Why, because they are some kind of computer experts? We have Tori. They can help _her_. She's top notch. They have no business at our crime scenes!"

"That's not their only skill," Beckett said. She knew something else.

"How is kicking FBI agents a useful skill in a kidnapping and murder case?"

"I'm not sure I'm at liberty to say what their other qualifications are. I can say I've worked with them before. Maybe we should just bring Walker in."

Not at liberty to say! This was too much! "Fine bring him in," she ordered.

Beckett opened the door and to Gates' surprise, the him was a her. She was a very tall blonde, with heels higher than Beckett's. In fact, the woman towered over the rest of them. Her above-the-knee skirt wasn't workplace appropriate, but the clothes were also of the quality that Beckett and Castle normally wore, those that she assumed came from designers, not off-the-rack. This woman was not a computer person. Maybe she was a model.

The captain and Sarah Walker were introduced, and the blonde took a comfortable, unaggressive position across from the desk. At least this Sarah carried herself like someone who respected her authority.

The woman had been standing right outside the door, likely spying on the entire conversation, so no recap was needed. "You disarmed Agent Harris?" She looked fit, but being disarmed by a woman would definitely explain Harris's outrage and wounded ego.

"No, ma'am, that was Chuck," Sarah responded. Gates heard Beckett whisper 'sir', which caused a confused look on Walker's face.

"Chuck must be the computer geek in your firm," Gates said.

"He prefers nerd. Geek implies enthusiasm. Nerd implies skill. Chuck very is skilled…at _many_ things. Also, he did work as a Nerd Herder for ten years. I did warn Agent Harris. My husband can handle himself."

Just great. She was the wife. Another intra-office relationship was the last thing Gates needed right now. Castle and Beckett were bad enough. Did Walker say 'Nerd Herd'? Those guys who worked at the Buy More? Beckett called the Buy More?

Walker was still talking. "The FBI assault team was just lucky he let himself be arrested to begin with."

Harris couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Let him!? He was surrounded by four armed members of my tact-team."

"We're gonna need more FBI guys," Sarah quipped under her breath. Beckett failed to hold in a snort. Gates didn't miss the _Die Hard_ joke, but it was too late. The respect she thought she had sensed was gone.

Gates needed to get this under control. "Where is this Chuck? Why am I not talking to him?"

"He's following a lead," Sarah said.

"And you didn't stop him?" Gates turned to the Agent at the side of her desk.

"She threatened me." Harris pointed towards Walker.

"You were impeding the investigation," Sarah said rather flippantly. "Chuck was following up on a lead that the FBI techs don't have the authority to handle or even the ability, if you were allowed."

"We traced that video feedback through four continents," Harris protested. "It dead ends."

"It's not a dead end. You just have to be on-site."

Harris's eyes widened. "He can't go there. He'll cause an international incident—"

"I'm not happy he's there without backup, but I believe we were discussing doing whatever is necessary. Chuck will find the exact location of the kidnappers. That's _necessary_."

"He's won't help from prison," Harris countered.

"He's pursuing a lead to find Ms El'Masri and Ms Castle. I should be with him, instead of hand-holding the FBI, but we have no one else here to do that. Unfortunately we've had hiring problems at Carmichael Industries. The rest of the company's assets are in California or on mission in an undisclosed location."

"If you threaten potential employees, I understand why you can't hire them."

"It's mostly trust issues. You clearly don't trust me. Did Detective Beckett not explain?"

Beckett said, "I wasn't sure what I was allowed to reveal, after how you introduced yourselves at the farmhouse."

"Oh, that explains it. We were reclassified as overt shortly after you called about the Linchpin problem. Thank you for your discretion, but now it's time to cut through the mess." To the room she said, "Since we got off on the wrong foot and I doubt you'd believe me at this point, Agent Harris would you please call…" Walker pulled out her phone and looked up something. "202-555-8243."

"That's a DC area code," he said with skepticism.

"Just call it. And put it on speaker."

The man was hesitant, so Gates said, "Please, Agent Harris, if it will settle this."

Harris made a show as if dialing the number was a burden. It rang through on the speaker on his phone.

" _This is Assistant Director Winston. What can I do for you Agent Harris and why did you call me after hours when I'm at home?"_

The man straightened up suddenly. Gates was impressed. This woman tricked Harris into dialing his boss at home.

Before the agent could stammer a response, Sarah said, "Hello, Director. This is Sarah Walker. Sorry to bother you on your personal line and I know Agent Harris is not in your reporting chain, but I need your help with a jurisdictional situation."

" _Wait? How did you get this number? I just changed my private line after your last call."_ That didn't sound good. " _How did you get the new number already? I haven't even given it to my son after he leaked the last one. You better not have hacked my wife's or my mother's phones."_

"Actually, your cell phone provider isn't that secure."

" _So that's how you changed the caller ID. Fine. I'm declaring that hacking the phone company and my personal line doesn't count as credit towards your weekly hack against the FBI servers. You hacked them, not us."_

"You knew this was Agent Harris's number, so you must have synced your contacts list with the FBI directory. The FBI would have the number."

" _That's what you did?"_

"Of course not, Director. It just sounds insecure to me. Chuck has something special planned for Thursday."

Gates wondered what they were talking about. _  
_

" _No, no, no. You're just trying to get me to pull an all nighter on Wednesday night. I'm going to ground my son from the Playstation… no, that won't work. If he's not distracting your husband with Call of Duty, I'll have more incursions to deal with. Why are your harassing me now anyway? Are you trying to trick me into not using my son as a diversion."_

From the conversation, Gates deduced Chuck played video games with the son of an assistant director at the FBI. She didn't need more problematic political connections.

"Actually, sir, this call has nothing to do with our government contract. I'm actually calling from Agent Harris's actual phone. I'm here with Harris as well as Captain Victoria Gates and Detective Kate Beckett, both of the NYPD."

" _Oh, sorry everyone. Carmichael Industries has been a friendly thorn in my side for the last three months for a white-hat hacking challenge. Sarah, I hope you are giving other government agencies as much trouble as you routinely give the FBI."_

"We would never think of it, Director. You know _you_ are special to us." Sarah had a little grin.

" _You CIA agents always seem to take special pleasure bothering those of us in law enforcement. At least you're ex-CIA now. What can I do for you?"_

Gates caught that. She thought the CIA experience explained a little.

"Carmichael Industries was called in to help with the kidnappings of Sara El'Masri and Alexis Castle."

" _I heard about that. An authorization request for an international trace passed my desk right before I left for the day. It didn't matter. We don't have the capabilities to go some places, like there. Ah, I get it. El'Masri's deep pockets coaxed you out of retirement."_

"Actually we are friends with Detective Beckett and Mr Castle. We crossed paths a while back when we still were in the agency and have consulted on a couple cases since then."

That was news to the captain. She wondered when had Beckett and Castle used CIA resources for a case? Gates needed to go back through the old files.

" _Sounds like someone made a serious mistake by also grabbing the El'Masri girl's friend, not knowing they were messing with you. Why are you calling me again? Right, you said there's a jurisdictional issue. Let's get this cleared up. Agent Harris?"_

"Yes sir."

" _You are lucky to have Carmichael Industries on the case. In my twenty-five years of working cyber-security, Chuck Bartowski is one of the top hackers I've ever had the misfortune of dealing with. I'm just happy he's in our side, so to speak."_

"But sir, you don't understand. This Chuck Bartowski has already attacked me once."

" _Attacked you? The man is about as easy going as it comes. I let him play Call of Duty with my middle school-aged son. What did you do?"_

"He interrupted our raid of a farmhouse that was suspected to have the kidnappers. We arrested him."

" _And he let you?"_

"He kicked me."

Sarah clarified, "He didn't resist the arrest. The kicking was later, after he escaped, when you pulled a gun on him. He kicked the gun, not you. Chuck doesn't like hurting people. When we met Detective Beckett's team the first time, our partner shot Detective Esposito with a tranquilizer gun when he didn't know enough pertinent details and had to cool the situation. I refrained today because my only option was a throwing knife."

" _Agent Harris, it sounds like you were lucky. When I said earlier that they were CIA, I didn't explain they weren't desk analysts. They were field agents, and from what I was allowed to hear, a top-flight covert team. You know. The lethal type. Let me settle this. Sarah, you don't want total control of the investigation, do you?"_

"Not until we confirm it's off US soil. They we'll have to—"

" _Right. You think it might be international because of Mr. El'Masri?"_

"For other reasons, which Chuck may be able to confirm with his current mission."

" _Too bad it's not Wednesday because this would distract him from us. Ok, I let you keep your reasons. Agent Harris, you're still point, but you are ordered to give Carmichael Industries your 100% cooperation. I'd say share all of your information, but I'm sure Chuck has already hacked your data lines. Will that work, Sarah?"_

"Yes. Thank you, sir." She didn't say anything about the hacking, which means they probably had.

" _Remember this favor before your next prank. Two weeks ago, ordering the hotel room upgrade and champagne room service at my anniversary getaway impressed my wife, but my credit card bill felt the pain."_

"I'll pass that along."

" _This call has me thinking. If Chuck and you are still working in the field… That's how you did it! You broke into our northern Virginia data center and tapped the network. I'm going make a call and have them look for dongles and replace every network cable. We'll also put in frequency jammers. Ha! You won't get us this week. Gotta go. Bye."_

The phone went dead. Harris glared at the CIA agent. "You must be really proud of yourself with your high level connections."

Sarah shrugged in response.

"Did you really break into an FBI building?" Beckett asked.

 _"_ We don't go on many missions anymore, except when contracted to break into a bank or office to test security, so breaking into the FBI was fun for a change."

"Ah, breaking into the FBI for 'fun.' I see. What are you going to do when he finds what you planted?"

"Who said it was just one data center?" she grinned.

"So you have contracts to test government security," Gates said, to get clarification. She could better accept a group with strong governmental ties.

"Yes. The NSA was actually secure. We broke in easily, but they noticed and kept a full accounting of everything we did. We hacked them, but they tracked us doing it, which earned top marks. The CIA had a few holes we helped plug. Then the director changed, and the contract was terminated during a project audit, for supposed security reasons. The ironic thing is we can still get in.

She continued, "The FBI Director of Computer Security Winston keeps insisting he's locked down their network, challenging Chuck to break in. Chuck normally does it right after breakfast on Thursdays. It's nice for us because it's already doubled the payout of the initial contract using his discretionary funds. Of course they are now delinquent on their fees, pending approval of the appropriation committee in Congress, so Chuck's doing little things like shifting his dinner reservations by ten minutes, which is easy enough to do considering how insecure the FBI's calendar system is."

There was still the matter of this past mission she didn't know about, so Gates asked, "You said worked with the NYPD before. And you shot Detective Esposito?"

Beckett explained, "That was when they were employed by the government, sir. Esposito and I wouldn't stand down, so Chuck disassembled the gun I was holding while I was holding it, and their partner shot Esposito. They took _non-lethal_ actions towards fellow law enforcement officers."

"I see. Detective Esposito was special forces and can hold a grudge. I hope this partner isn't going to be showing his face around here."

Sarah said, "Then Marine Colonel Casey is a sniper. One of the best in the world. I know from a difficult shot he once made to save me, a shot few in the world could make. Detective Esposito should take some pride in surviving. Not many do. Casey's contracted out on a mission in Eastern Europe now and is not available right now."

"Still, you should stay clear," Gates insisted.

"Dr. Parrish too," Beckett added.

Sarah smiled. "Yeah, she had a temper that time."

"What was the case?" Gates asked.

"It was with your predecessor, and it's classified. The second case went better. The details of that are classified too, but it was with the Gage murder, when you were here."

"That mess with the Feds," Gates recalled. "That was you? I don't remember you."

Sarah explained, "Beckett called for a quick consult. Chuck solved the case while messing up an omelet at our home. We passed the take down op to our former superior. The third case was your false arrest of Mr Castle a few months ago. We called your tip line about 3XK, but were not routed correctly. When we heard about the transfer, we ensured Mr Castle wouldn't get killed in prison."

"That was you!" Gates herself was called to the carpet for letting what turned out to be an innocent man escape. At the time they thought he was guilty, so it was their job to hold him in custody.

"Technically it was the outfit that Casey is working with right now."

"You're awfully cavalier about contracting a prison break," Gates pointed out.

"Chuck easily found the video and computer tampering evidence. Frankly, your DA is cavalier about false arrests and not protecting innocent prisoners who shouldn't be prisoners. The fact that our exculpatory evidence was given to your authorities but ignored should be a red flag."

"Are you accusing the DA of misconduct?"

"Not today. Today we have two girls to find. But I must say that Chuck and Morgan agree with Castle that 3XK is alive, and I'm inclined to agree."

"Who is Morgan?" Gates asked.

"That's not important, sir," Beckett said, clearly wanting to redirect the conversation. "Let's just say Carmichael Industries has helped find justice on multiple occasions, but is only involved when appropriate."

It was time for Gates to try to stand firm. "I'm not happy about how you were brought in without talking to me first. And I don't understand your agenda. You are on Mr Castle's dime. The NYPD doesn't have the funds."

Sarah shrugged. "Don't worry about it. We typically find alternative revenue streams."

"At least you're a former civil servant, not a former art thief." That mistake with the last consultant had been an embarrassment that the captain was fortunate to hide from her superiors. Just then, something flashed in the ex-spy's eyes. Oh no. That wasn't good. This one wasn't coming back on her. "Detective Beckett, they're solely your responsibility."

The detective nodded.

Sarah tried to placate, "I'm here to help. Just keep me in the loop, and I'll stay out of the way _until_ I'm needed."

"I'm still in charge, then," Harris said, rejoining the discussion. The statement didn't have the desired confidence and sounded a bit like a question.

"Sure." Sarah said, but even Gates didn't believe it. "It's late for you. I'm still on LA time, so I'm going to hit your gym if you don't mind. Beckett?"

"Of course. I call you if anything comes up."

"You should all probably get some rest. When Chuck gets a location, things will move quickly," Sarah said as a parting statement. She left without waiting to be dismissed. So much for that initial respect.

Beckett looked to Harris, trying not to laugh. For someone not currently in charge, Sarah's implied orders were clear.

Beckett said, "I'll send Castle home. Sir?"

"Dismissed," Gates answered, and Beckett left. The captain turned to the remaining person in her office, Harris. "I know you're not happy about it, but it sounds like you don't have a choice. Just do what you normally do, and maybe they will help. We still appreciate your help and expertise."

"Right. I need to check in with the team at the farmhouse." The FBI agent left.

 _What a mess!_

Captain Gates hoped Detective Beckett knew what she was doing.


	3. Trading for Hostages

_Posted 3 Feb 2019 (Everyone in in the New England area or LA, we know who you are rooting for. Everyone else, go Saints!)  
_

* * *

 _ **The Next Morning**_

Detective Javier Esposito did not sleep well last night. He wondered how Little Castle could be in Paris.

He was looking through flight records. That blonde "consultant" had predicted the girls might be out of the country. At the time, he thought she was trying to leverage her CIA position to take over the case by making it an international crime. He didn't know at the time that she had become private sector as part of Carmichael Industries. He only knew her from a couple years ago, when her partner had shot him during a homicide investigation at what turned out to be a foreign criminal hideout. In his book, the people with Carmichael Industries couldn't be trusted because their methods were too heavy-handed.

It annoyed him to no end that the ex-spook had been right about the girls.

At first, he thought the consultants were here because of Castle. He was always infatuated with the spy stuff. He must have stupidly kept in touch with them after that accidental encounter a couple years ago. The big surprise was they were here because of Beckett, not Castle. It was official. The crazy had fully rubbed off. It only took a few months after they started rubbing in the bedroom. At least he hadn't had to deal with that type of thing for the previous four years.

The blonde ex-spook had recommended looking at small airfields for medical patients or caskets because, "It made sense." To Esposito, none of it made sense. He was going to ignore the suggestion, until Beckett made it an order. Apparently, this outsider was making the calls now.

At the desk behind Espo, his partner Detective Kevin Ryan was reviewing the farmhouse forensics and the witness deposition. He had tried following up on the abandoned vehicle they found the other night, but that was a dead end.

Beckett was focused on Castle virtually full time, trying to keep him calm. Unfortunately that meant their four-person team was down by two, only Javi and Kevin. Maybe that's why she pulled in outsiders. Sure the FBI was here, but they heavily relied on statistics. It had been over 48 hours. After another couple days, those resources might go away, especially with this being an international case. With no ransom call, an assumption might be made about human trafficking and slave trade. Those weren't part of the FBI's mandate.

Esposito was going to do everything to make sure nothing happened to Alexis, even if it meant working with a couple of spies.

Just then, the detective saw the woman in question at the stairs. Daaaamn. She was coming back from the gym. Towel over her shoulder, tight blue top, spandex tight leggings that ended just above the calf, and blue, below-the-ankle chucks. Her skin had a slight sheen from the sweat of her workout. Espo knew he was ogling. The entire bullpen was. Well, maybe not Mr married, Ryan. He mumbled something and forced his head down.

Too bad she was a spy. And she was married.

Behind the spy was Officer Ann Hastings, also coming back from the gym. Hastings was dressed much more conservatively, in simple red and black sweats. It looked like the two women had been working out together. That would have been something to see. Hastings was an ex-vigilante superhero, highly trained in several martial arts. The spy wouldn't know what hit her.

Esposito recalled the home invasion video of that Sarah Walker and her husband a few years ago, effectively taking out everyone in the perp's den. Maybe a one-sided beat down was not what happened in the gym. The women were smiling and appeared to be in good spirits, but Hastings was the one favoring her left leg. Walker went to talk to Beckett, so Esposito cornered Hastings in the break room.

"Don't tell me you let the blonde on stilts get the better of Lone Vengeance. Even Beckett can't take you down."

Hastings sighed and admitted, "Actually, I've been avoiding Detective Beckett. I know part of her is still a little pissed I took that button off her last year at the crime scene after hours when I took it as LV. Several things worked to my advantage. I was able to surprise her in costum, she was still recovering a bit from a sniper bullet to the chest, and I used Castle as a diversion. I'm not certain a sparring rematch now would be friendly, and she is kinda my boss."

 _Ha._ Lone Vengeance was scared of Beckett. Then again, Espo was a little scared of her too despite his special forces training. He was sure he could take her. Well, mostly sure… "But what about the spy?"

"We didn't spar. You kidding? She'd kick my ass. I have a rep to maintain around here. Sarah was showing me this cool, over-the-top, downward kick, but I'm not sure I have the height for it. She and her husband have more natural height to use. Sure, I'm 5'9" too, but her husband is really tall and Walker is so flexible that she can bring her leg up at least a foot higher than I can.

"That's not what caused this," Hastings said, pointing to her ankle. "She was running an informal, impromptu class this morning for those in the gym who were interested. She's a certified trainer in three martial arts—a black belt in five. During the class, Sergeant Jennings showed up."

Jennings was ex-special forces like Esposito, but was also a college Division 1 wrestling national champion in the 90s. Espo liked to dream he could match up if it weren't for the fifty pound weight difference in Jenning's favor. Wrestlers leveraged every pound.

Jennings was also a bit of a tool.

Hastings continued, "You can imagine. Jennings made a rude comment about the usefulness of kick boxing. Sarah corrected him, calling it Muay Thai and then started to explain how it mixed well in a knife fight." That wouldn't have sat well. Jennings was a hot head, quick to take offense.

Hasting responded to Espo's look. "Yeah, they fought. This stupid ankle injury is because I didn't get out of the way fast enough when Sarah kicked him across the room, which happened to be towards me."

Esposito said with amazement, "The guy's got to be over twice her weight." Considering the size difference, Esposito was surprised she sent Jennings's body flying.

"I know. The injury was worth it, seeing him taken down a peg. Dickleman was there too."

Dickleman was Jennings' partner before the latter made sergeant. He was even bigger than Jennings, but without the technique. He was basically a brawler. He'd also been written up for misconduct a couple times. It certainly would have been more times without his partner covering for him.

"After round two, Dickle joined in. All the while, Sarah had been giving the class a running commentary about how to take-on a larger opponent. When Dickleman shoved her from behind, all bets were off. She leg swept Jennings, rolled over Dickle's back to the wall were she kicked one of those chairs into kindling. Two sticks made instant weapons. After blocking a haymaker from each with her sticks, she spun them to create some separation. Dickleman was swearing up a storm, drowning out the lesson, so Sarah ended it by clocking Jennings with a projectile and knocking out Dickle with a kick to the head. It was glorious. Everyone cheered. I think a couple people took videos. I need to get a copy. Maybe Lone Vengeance can team up in the next issue of the comic. She doesn't always need to be 'alone.' I think a one-off team-up would be a fun story. Anyway, I gotta go, or I'll be late for my shift. Later, Espo."

Part of Esposito could admit to himself he was sorry he missed the show. Those two have been a black mark against the Twelfth Precinct since they transferred in a few years ago. How Jennings made Sergeant was anyone's guess.

The rest of the detective was thinking, _why the hell was the spy running martial arts classes, not looking for Alexis?_

The blonde spy was still talking to Beckett at her desk. _Time to figure out what they are doing._ As he approached, he heard Walker apologizing for coming down so hard on the jerks. She said that she always got edgy when Chuck was on a mission and that she was waiting for the general to be done with her meeting with the Secretary of Homeland Security, anyway. She didn't mean to take it so far. Beckett was about to respond when Ryan pushed his rolling chair down the hall, to her desk.

"Found something, Ryan?" Beckett asked.

"Well, it was like she said," Ryan tipped his notepad towards the spy, "medical transport with two patients."

"Did they land in Belgium?" This from Walker.

"Yes, how did you know?"

Beckett stood up and left. _What would cause her to… Oh. Castle was back._ She was doing the figurative and literal hand-holding on this case. Hopefully, Gates hadn't noticed. They were being a little too obvious. Castle was barely holding it together, and with his little session with one of the kidnappers yesterday, he had proven to be reckless. Not that enhanced interrogation wasn't warranted in Esposito's book, but in the future they needed his insight on the team without Gates throwing a fit.

When the spy realized what Beckett was doing, she answered Ryan's question, "Most of the private airfields near Paris have CIA or French intelligence watch dogs. The other ones tend to be controlled by local arms dealers and smugglers, a hassle the kidnappers wouldn't want. Even if they controlled the landing strip, they wouldn't want the risk of attention for something like this. Seventy years ago Hitler proved the Belgian-Franco border is wide open. That hasn't changed."

She asked, "Did they declare as medical or funeral transport?"

"Uh, they declared it to be an angel mercy mission for the entrance to France: two young women on the way to a transplant surgery."

"That's how I would do it. Caskets can bypass any customs enforcement, but don't get bumped to the front of the line."

"Surveillance lost them in Paris after they switched vehicles." Ryan explained. "There are too many cars, and it is too much traffic camera footage to dig through."

"They've probably moved by now. Chuck's getting their current location anyway." Walker shrugged. "Who owned the plane?"

"A Russian oligarch named Usmanov who has been out of the country," Ryan answered. The spy nodded like that was expected.

"What's the connection of the Russian to El-Masri?" Esposito asked.

Ryan said, "There is none. His people didn't know the plane had left the hanger."

"They stole a plane for a kidnapping?" Esposito asked.

Ryan twisted his mouth and shrugged to say he guessed so.

The trail was cold.

Walker said, "I doubt that. Usmanov is wealthy and connected. He's a bit of a pushover for doing 'favors' for anyone, not wanting to create a fuss, but he also highly values discretion. A plane theft could end up too high profile, so it was probably a loaner they didn't want to admit. He'd loan a second plane to help find the kidnappers, but wouldn't let you know he knew anything about what was going on. It's not worth pursuing."

It was just as worthless as a cold trail.

Esposito returned to his desk, trying to busy himself by looking over the forensic report of the farmhouse, for the third time. The autopsy wasn't being done by the FBI and would take a few more hours for it do be done by the local department, even if it was marked high priority. He'd make sure Lanie would get a copy in case the locals or Feds missed anything.

The spy didn't look any busier then he felt. She was doing something on her tablet, but her indifference made Esposito almost certain she was scanning her Facebook updates.

A short while later, the El-Masris showed up at the station. They looked even more anxious than they had been yesterday. Agent Harris jumped up to usher them into a conference room. Gates joined them, saying on her way between her office and the conference room that there had been a ransom call. That spurred Beckett and Castle. The spy got up too, although she was more causally determined. Oh yeah. The case was international. She was in charge now. She knew they would wait for her.

Ryan joined him at the edge of his desk where he could look up at the conference room. They both wanted to be flies on the wall, but between Beckett, Castle, Harris, Gates, and the spy, the room was too crowded with alphas already.

A minute later they heard indiscernible yelling from Castle. The rooms were almost as sound proof as interrogation. Something had set him off.

After another minute, the door opened and the spy stepped out, shutting the door behind her. That was odd, maybe she had been sent out and wasn't really in charge.

 _Oh._ She was taking a call.

Esposito and Ryan tried to look busy, like they weren't snooping, but no one who knew them would be fooled by their act. Beckett saw through it all the time. Their chances of fooling a spy were only slightly higher than fooling Beckett.

"You're where!?" That question from Walker was loud enough the entire bullpen heard it.

"What are you doing, Chuck? I don't care if you regularly play Halo with him," she continued a little more softly but with just as much fire. "Call of Duty. Whatever. You can't trust him!"

Esposito thought his Chuck must play a lot of video games. She listened to Chuck for a while. She looked like she would crush the phone in her hand.

"They're doing the ransom exchange for the El-Masri girl. They said they are getting Alexis for the ransom too, but you know that's not really the case. Have you found Alexis yet?"

That was not good. She said the ransom was for Sara but not for Alexis. The El-Masris were loaded but Castle was rich too. _What was going on?_

"They say Alexis is part of the deal, but…"

She listened to another long ramble at the other end. Her anger had slipped to concern, then after a while, she was smirking and rolling her eyes. No, that wasn't a smirk. That was a genuine smile.

"Chuck."

"Chuck! I gotta go pick up our backup and call the General. Stay safe and don't miss your plane while you are nerding out. Love you. Bye."

The spy left without an explanation. She didn't even check-in with Beckett. Espo through this made no sense.

 _ **Later in the day**_

"Make way! Make way! Lady Vengeance coming through."

Not knowing the voice, Esposito looked away from the report on the exact route the kidnappers had traveled from Belgium to Paris. Ryan and he both received a copy in their emails from Carmichael Industries a few minutes ago, The report was detailed, including speeds and kilometer markers down to the second. The speeds were conveniently converted to miles per hour for the American readers. The bad guys were always below the speed limit so they wouldn't be noticed along the way.

If Carmichael Industries knew this much, why didn't they just stop the kidnappers? The suspicious thing was the report ended right as the transport van left La Defense and entered Paris. It was already in an urban area and was tracked by traffic cameras. If the spies had hacked some French government highway monitoring system and the systems in several suburbs, wouldn't the city traffic cameras be easier? Not only that, but the last entry in the email log stopped midway, as if they were limiting information. _Weren't they all on the same team?_

Whatever the distraction, Espo needed the break. He saw two people wheeling a mounted TV by his desk.

"Quiet Morgan. I don't need the captain hearing something like that. I was lucky to keep my job." Despite the admonishment she gave, Hasting was grinning at the title. She might have dressed up as a superhero in the past, but quit after she had been caught doing her moonlighting activities. The source of the praise was a bearded man, about Esposito's height, doing a reckless job of steering the TV across the bullpen. He looked a little familiar, but Espo couldn't place him. The tech department must have a new man.

Hasting continued, "And it's Lone Vengeance…"

"Really? Sarah told me you were with your muse—ee. Sorry about the M-word. It slipped out. Anyway, It's hard to be alone for someone who is with someone."

"Yeah, I know. He gives me a hard time about that all of the time, but I retired and never had a chance to rebrand."

"You still need to have a name ready. You never know when LV might be needed in the city of New York again. Superheroes do it all the time. Robin became Nightwing. Jane become Phoenix. Lone Vengeance could be needed as something else."

"I'm already serving the city every day in the NYPD."

"Sure, but I'm talking as a superhero. How about 'Conqueror,' like 'William the?'"

The woman smirked. "You mean from the Battle of Hastings? Clever, but I don't think that's much of a secret name." She didn't completely blow it off though. "I'll run it by my guy. He does the naming. My vigilante days are done, but the character still lives in his stories."

They rolled into the conference room where the FBI was monitoring the ransom hand-off for Alexis and the El-Masri girl. They said it was both, not just Sara. Alexis was included in the trade too. Esposito was shut out because the room was already full. _Why did they need another TV, and why did they get to be in there when he didn't?_ He wasn't having it so he got up to join them.

Right as he reached the door, Hastings stepped back out on into the bullpen. "Hey, Javi. Aren't these Carmichael Industries guys great?"

That's where the bearded guy was from. The townhouse that Castle dragged them to a couple years ago. The place where he was shot. That guy was named Morgan, and he was there.

"What is it?" Officer Hastings asked. Esposito must not have schooled his features enough.

From behind him, a grinning Kevin Ryan said, "Javi doesn't like them that much, on the account of the fact they shot him."

 _Some partner. Traitor was more like it_ , he thought.

"Morgan? I don't buy it. He's a sweet guy. Couldn't harm anyone but himself."

Espo explained, "It was their big guy, Casey."

"Oh, I heard he was ex-marines and an NSA sniper. That makes more sense."

This surprised the detective. It sounded like he was lucky to survive. Snipers shot to kill, but he survived. Maybe they weren't that bad.

The conference room door reopened, and Morgan stepped out, bowing shortly to Officer Hastings, adding a little hand flourish. "Thank you again, Mi'lady Vengeance. Go forth and render comfort and aid and justice and vengeance to the citizens of New York. But if need arrives again, please continue to rescue large screen TVs from closing elevator doors."

He quickly turned, running into the now closed conference room door. After some fumbling, he managed to get back through, re-shutting the door behind himself.

Hastings chuckled with a big grin. She liked the bearded man.

Not deterred, Esposito said, "Excuse me." and he entered.

The dark room was crowded with FBI officials, Castle, Beckett, the El-Masris, Gates, and Morgan. The FBI tech was manipulating a four-way split screen that most were focused on. It showed different angles of La Seine river in Paris, along with the riverwalk area and the famous bridges. The El-Masri cousin was there with a car and the ransom. The FBI tech was flipping the pictures between cameras to get better angles.

Walker wasn't even in the room. Apparently she had something better to do, so they were now stuck with Morgan.

In the Paris video feeds, the kidnappers car showed up to make the exchange. A moment later, Morgan, the sole person focused on the other TV, said, "Oh dear."

Esposito looked over and saw a single picture of what looked like an overheard, satellite feed, showing heat signatures.

"There is only one hostage in the van," Morgan said.

Others were still focused on the FBI screen and the money exchange. Esposito saw a single warm spot in the back of the van where the kidnappers held their hostage.

The van drove off and others in the room were very concerned because their money and family member were not visible to a camera, under the bridge. There had been no sign of Sara or Alexis on the FBI's feeds. Castle was freaking out, to the point of exacerbation.

Esposito already knew what was going on. Many were relieved when Sara returned in frame with the rescuer who took her away safely. The heat signatures had showed where they were the entire time. Alexis was never there.

Morgan started packing up as the lights were turning on.

Beckett cut in, "Dr Morgan, what is it?"

 _Dr Morgan._ Esposito had never heard that before. Castle wasn't surprised and also was tuned in for the response. _They_ wanted him there.

Morgan said, "It was like we said. The exchange was just for Sara El-Masri. I'm glad she's safe, but I gotta go. I have my equipment, but can someone be helpful and wrangle this TV back to its origin? My woman is expecting a call and for me to be on a flight to the other side of the country. She's Casey's daughter, which is even more incentive to meet all of her expectations. Hang in there. Things are in the works. We'll be in touch."

That seemed to take even Castle and Beckett back a bit.

Morgan finished up and disappeared out the door.

"It looks like we are on our own," Castle said.

Carmichael Industries was gone. Without a new development, the FBI might be gone soon. It was up to Esposito's team at the NYPD.


	4. Who's the Boss

_Posted 4 Feb 2019_

A/N: For those that don't remember but might care a little, this chapter starts after the very end of the _Castle_ 5.15, _Target_. This story still assumes parts of Castle's early Paris experiences/misadventures in 5.16, _Hunt_ , still happen, but much of the rest is very different.

* * *

Martha had reached her limit. It was all too much for her.

Her transatlantic call to her son confirmed her fear. He was in Paris.

What was Richard thinking, flying to Paris to rescue Alexis? He didn't even know where his daughter was. Playing cop was bad enough. Playing Derrick Storm would get him killed. At least he should have taken Katherine as backup. She could've protected him.

She looked at Katherine, but the detective was staring a hole through the phone Martha was holding, stuck almost in shock. Rick had just told her he was at the precinct with the detective. She had come to the apartment find to him. His passport was gone, so clearly he went to Paris to find Alexis.

"Katherine, you need to go after him."

The detective looked up but didn't school her expression quickly enough to fool an expert on the craft of acting. She wanted to project waning anger, replaced with calm and control. In between, Martha saw the flicker. She recognized the moment was like when one of her students forgot a line. Katherine wasn't panicked about forgetting a line. This was about Richard.

"Martha, why does he think he can find her?"

"He has a contact in the French government. It's from one of his books."

" _Unholy Storm_ ," Katherine recalled.

Martha couldn't prevent the corners of her mouth lifting slightly despite the circumstance because Katherine was such a big fan of her son's writing. She had always assumed Richard's early assertions were unfounded boasting when he started shadowing her. The remains of that assumption completely fell apart when she'd caught the younger woman sneaking his first editions off the shelves after a recent "sleepover."

"Maybe the French government will give him the runaround until you can get to him," Martha suggested.

The detective worried her lower lip. There must be something about that novel that bothered her. Martha never could keep the Derrick Storm books straight. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but the other woman knew.

"I'll find the next flight," Martha decided. She walked to the study to make a call. She doubted her family's travel agent was working this late, but it was an emergency. The agent could at least help her get through the online website quickly.

"No, Martha. He has too much of a head start. I'd lose two days flying out there and trying to find him, if he'd even talk to me. I need to work the case from here, and find clues that will help."

Martha hesitated on the call button, when the door knocked, causing her thumb to jump. She glanced down and saw she had hit the call cancel button. She'd have to find that number again.

Katherine was closer, so she answered the door. Martha had been expecting the next FBI shift, relief for the tech team in her dining room. Behind the door was something Martha wasn't expecting. In the hallway stood a tall woman, blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She was dressed in matted black, from a snug leather jacket to high-heeled boots. She carried a large duffel, slung over her shoulder.

"Sarah! Where have you been? Castle couldn't wait any longer and went to Paris on his own." At least Kathrine knew her.

"I know." She confidently walked past the detective, slid her duffel out of the way by the front closet, and walked over to the two FBI techs at the dining room table. "You two need to leave. Now."

The men didn't react, not knowing how to respond to the command. Maybe the computer geeks were just shocked the beautiful woman was acknowledging them. They had been a little tongue tied around Katherine earlier.

"Don't make me make it an order. For me, that involves brandishing a weapon." Sarah's voice was level and serious. From her demeanor, Martha was certain Sarah couldn't be acting. Where a weapon was hiding in that ensemble was beyond Martha.

"Sarah, what is going on?" Katherine asked, full of concern. Her right hand edged to her holster. Martha's hands lifted to cover her mouth.

"Stand down, Detective, unless you're backing me up. This mission was just green-lighted, and these men don't have clearance for operational details."

This 'Sarah' was done waiting and pulled a gun from…somewhere. Martha's hands couldn't hold in her gasp.

Beckett's hand was on her service weapon, but for some reason she was hesitating. Instead she said, "I don't know what you've been doing, but you can't just come in here and threaten two FBI agents."

"Why not? I'm not threatening them anyway. If I was, I'd use a real gun or a knife. A well placed stab wound is threatening but non-lethal. This is just a tranq gun." While still holding the gun pointed at the agents, Sarah pulled out her cell and said, "Call Agent Harris. Speakerphone."

The voice recognition worked for her. Martha never could manage it. After a couple rings, " _Harris._ "

"Agent Harris," Sarah said sweetly, with a touch of irritation, "I'm at Richard Castle's home, and who do I find?"

 _"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to notify them."_

"You can order them to clear out now, or I can tranq them then leave them unconscious in the alley for eleven and a half hours." _That was specific_

 _"There's no need—"_

"We're already running late because of the unprofessional behavior you showed in our last conference, and I don't have time to deal with any more inter-agency bureaucracy. _Alexis Castle_ doesn't have the time. We know there are dozens of security holes in FBI communications, and I have personal experience with far too many double agents in the ranks."

 _"Hold on a minute. I won't let you insinuate—"_

"It's not a theory. It was a fact. A young woman's life is at stake. I know you think you did the best you could with the resources you had, but this situation is now above your pay grade. How did the General put it?"

 _"Well, um…"_

"Do I need waste more time, conferencing her in to remind you? It's late, and I know from experience how she gets during emergency wake-up calls. She might be head of the DNI, but she takes my calls to her personal line at all hours."

 _"No. Uh, she said the case is no longer in our jurisdiction, and well, you know."_

Sarah finished for him, "You should back off and let the professionals handle it from here." Martha was impressed Sarah didn't even smirk. A line like that deserved a smirk.

 _"Which is completely unfair. We are working with French authorities—"_

"Agent Harris, please continue to do that, as you were _ordered_. We don't want to tip off the kidnappers. They likely have sources in the French government as well as the US government. These aren't amateurs. If you suddenly stopped, they would know something was different. However, I am here to discuss operational details with Detective Beckett—"

 _"Why does she have clearance?"_ the Agent interrupted.

"The operation has been compartmentalized. Agent Bartowski and General Beckman have approved my need to know list, and you are not on it. She is."

 _"Once we get approval from the French government—"_

"It's too bad my other partner isn't here to give you his opinion of the French. Do you really want to rely on the state department instead of… What else did the General call us?"

Agent Harris hesitated before squeezing out, _"The world's best hostage extraction team. Fine. Guys, grab your equipment and clear out."_

Somehow Sarah still wasn't smirking, but one of the FBI techs was. Sarah said, "They can go out for coffee and come back for their equipment in fifteen minutes."

Harris protested, _"It will only take a few minutes—"_

The computer guy who thought the situation was funny found his voice, "Sir, we can come back."

The other, who still looked scared, added, "I really don't wanna be shot."

Agent Harris audibly sighed. _"Whatever. Call me when you get to the coffee shop across the street."_

Sarah lowered her gun, and the two men scurried out. Only after the door shut did Sarah slide her gun into the back of her waistband. She didn't seem to need a holster.

Sarah smiled by way of apology and turned to Beckett and then Martha.

"Sorry about that scene. My husband normally takes care of these types of things. His babbling normally gets people to leave because they don't understand and scared of Casey or my silent, but menacing, act from the back. Sometimes he simply convinces them to not start World War 3.

She walked over to her bag by the door and then pulled out a tablet.

Kate still hadn't removed her hand from her holster, but the blonde woman didn't seem concerned. Kate finally said, "Sarah, when I asked for you to help on this case, I didn't mean for you to disappear, drop Dr Morgan on us at the precinct, and then threaten the FBI off of the case."

"Don't worry, Detective, we know what we're doing. But why did you just call him _Dr_ Morgan?" Not waiting for an answer, she swiped across the screen a few times and then held up the screen so the other women could see. "That reddish blob is Alexis."

The infrared splotch moved slightly on the screen.

"Oh my God. So she is alive? Where is she? Why don't you contact the police?" Martha asked as she slowly extended her hand towards the screen.

"She's still in Paris, but under heavy guard. The French authorities cannot help," Sarah answered. "Extracting her is going to take what we would call 'finesse.'"

"My son is going to get himself killed trying to rescue her."

"Don't worry, Ms Rodgers. That's not going to happen. We know exactly where your son is. We cloned his phone. So far, he doesn't know where Alexis is."

Beckett asked, "Why didn't you stop him from getting on the plane?"

"Chuck argued that we shouldn't try to stop a father from going after his daughter, and I didn't have the power to arrest Mr Castle."

"But you can pull guns on FBI agents?"

"Shooting people is less paperwork than arresting them. Besides, _now_ I do have the power. I wasted a couple hours getting this case classified as a national security issue and a couple more obtaining a green light for a privately run black op. This sort of thing was a lot easier when I was in the CIA. Then again, we didn't pick our own missions and had to go rogue too often when we had to rescue family and friends in situations like this."

 _She's a CIA agent. Well, former agent. That explained a lot._ "How are you protecting my son when you are here?"

"Chuck, that's my other partner and my husband, will be landing in Paris soon."

"Why didn't Chuck go with Castle?" Beckett asked.

"Chuck was overseas, securing Alexis's location, dealing with that electronic back-trace problem at the source, where the FBI couldn't go. I was dealing with the local FBI and prepping the mission. Chuck will make sure Castle stays out of trouble until backup arrives."

"Backup?"

"You and me. Get your passport and pack a bag." Sarah punctuated the order with a snap of the tablet case's lid.

"There aren't any more flights until the morning," Katherine said. Martha looked at the clock. She was right. It was after midnight. They'd miss any red-eye flights and would have to catch the first flight in the morning.

"In addition to dealing with the bureaucracy, I arranged transport."

"A charter?" Martha suggested. Her son had done that a couple times. She never liked it because too many famous people died in small aircraft crashes. This flight would be across an ocean. Hopefully, it would be a bigger plane.

"Something like that," Sarah answered. "We're in a hurry and still have a long flight, so I'll explain the mission details en route. Sorry, Ms Rodgers, you are not need-to-know either, at least at that depth, but I don't threaten civilians or the family of clients. For now, Beckett, you need to get your passport, pack the essentials, and change your clothes." Sarah withdrew an outfit from the duffel and handed it to the detective.

At least Detective Beckett was invited. She'd look out for Martha's family. Katherine said, "We're probably going to need to go back to my apartment. I don't have a lot here. My passport is there."

Sarah's confidence faltered for the first time since she walked in the door. "You don't live here?"

"Of course not. Castle and I just got together."

"I know, but isn't this place nicer than yours?" Sarah was genuinely confused.

Martha felt obligated to stick up for the other woman. "Katherine is a strong, independent woman, and she is welcome to come and go and stay as she pleases. I'm sure my son would agree."

The police detective said, "The NYPD doesn't officially allow partners to be together so I still live in my apartment."

Sarah shrugged and said, "I was investigated for similar reasons before Chuck and I were even together. I doubt you were ever more independent than I was. I've been told my CIA file screamed 'loner,' but I started storing weapons at Chuck's place almost immediately after we met and had a go-bag there a few months later, although I guess that shouldn't count. I moved in with Chuck a couple weeks after we became official. It's hard to image because Chuck isn't pushy, but he must be pushier than Castle." Kate stopped a snort at that comment. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. We should go to your place now. We've already wasted too much time."

Kate and Sarah started to the door, the latter grabbing the duffel, but Martha stopped them, "Um Katherine, don't go. Your passport is here."

"What? Why?" she asked. Sarah dropped the bag with a thud

"Richard mentioned that trip to Bora Bora."

"And I said I'd have to see if I could get the time off."

"But he thought he might have to twist your arm, so he—"

"Stole my passport!" Katherine went to the same drawer where Martha had earlier checked for Castle's passport.

Martha said, "It's not there. He knew when you figured it out, you'd try to take it back, so he put it in his safe. He said something about looking forward to you trying to get the combination out of him."

Katherine blushed a little at the comment before composing herself. "His safe. Can you get in?"

"It's not in the family one. That's where we keep my jewelry, family legal documents, and some emergency funds for bail and, you know, shopping. He put your passport in the safe where he keeps the extreme emergency funds, the keys to the Ferrari, and the good scotch." Alexis might have that combination, because that responsible college freshman would stay away from the scotch. Martha's son knew his mother was less reliable and wouldn't give it to her.

Sarah stepped around the duffel and walked straight to the study. She had guessed easily where the safe was.

"Kate, pack up anything you have here while I open the safe. I have most of the mission clothes you'll need. Agency undergarments are always either too uncomfortable or too sexy for a mission. I recommend wearing your own shoes—much more comfortable. Makeup and toiletries might be a good idea too."

"I have some of that here." She headed off to the bedroom.

Martha followed Sarah to the study. Sarah took only a couple seconds to survey the room before walking directly to the framed picture behind the desk. She quickly swept the sides and bottom edge of the frame. Finding nothing, she carefully lifted out the bottom edge before stopping and looking back at Martha, "Any alarms? I forgot that you would probably know."

"No alarms. Richard has a source for one of his books who used to be art thief. He advised us of what kind of safe to get, but he said any alarms past the doors and windows would be pointless."

"And you believed his choice wasn't something he could crack?" Sarah set the frame off to the side, revealing the safe.

"Well, he and I, well," Martha circled her hands in the air, "you know."

"I'm sure he could still get in. Most safes are crackable by ex-professional art thieves," Sarah said while attaching her cell phone to the safe. She pressed the screen a few times and waited.

The safe clicked.

"And by ex-spies." Sarah smiled and turned the handle. Inside, the money had been cleared out, and the scotch was lower than the last time Martha had seen it. Sarah withdrew the passport, checked it, closed the safe, and rehung the picture.

 _That was too easy. Maybe another alarm would be a good idea. It would add a second or two._

Sarah said, "It was easy enough to talk my way past the doorman. After what happened with that serial killer last fall, you really should upgrade your security in case he comes back."

"You know about that?"

Sarah shrugged nonchalantly.

"But he's dead. My son shot him."

"Falling into a river is a great way to fake your death. I had an ex do that once," Sarah said matter-of-factly. "He tried to kill me again a couple months later so he obviously wasn't dead. We've had this argument with Detective Beckett already. I thought your son agreed with us."

Apparently, Richard had been hiding some things from her. That was just as well. Knowing he was playing cop was bad enough without knowing all of the details.

Sarah cut across the study to the bedroom. Martha followed. She still wasn't completely sure why this ex-CIA agent was here, but she seemed to know a lot of what was happening and was definitely confident. In the bedroom, Katherine had just finished changing into a white blouse with pilot's shoulder bars, a long black tie, and a short navy skirt. "I'm not supposed to fly a plane, am I?" she asked.

"No. I'll do that. It's just your cover." When Katherine still looked confused, Sarah offered, "I'll explain on the way. Here's your passport. Do you have navy heels here?"

"Just slippers, running shoes, black leather boots, black stilettos, and—"

The spy smiled. "You don't live here, huh?"

"That's a drop in the bucket. Most of my coats are at my apartment, too."

Sarah disappeared into the closet. "Sure. I lived out of a suitcase for eight months after moving in with Chuck and used the CIA wardrobe-a-tron even after our engagement. Never give up extra closet space until it's absolutely necessary. I only stopped using the wardrobe at our spy base because the operation was shut down when we left the CIA." She tossed a pair of white sneakers out into the room. "Those running shoes are too bright. Wear the pumps; pack the highest leg dark boots." She handed the heels and boots to the detective, somehow not noting the heels were stilettos, impractical for a trip. "Do any have any with reinforced toes or platforms?"

"Platforms would be too much. I'm already 5'9" before these."

"Chuck has over 6 inches on me, so we like the platforms. Plus with spike heels, it's hard to get the rotational speed. The platforms serve as clubs."

"I guess that explains those boots." Martha had noticed Sarah's heels were even higher than what Katherine sometimes wore.

"There are knives in the toes of most of my boots and some other shoes. The heal works as a weapon too. Just ask Morgan sometime."

"Ah. Why am I wearing this if you're the pilot?" Kate asked, pointing to the outfit she wore.

"You're the magnet," Sarah said as if that was an explanation. Seeming satisfied with Kate's suitcase, the ex-spy turned to Martha. "Ms Rodgers, we're going to go into communication blackout for at least the next 18 hours. We'll let you know as soon as Alexis is extracted and it's safe to talk."

Martha asked, "Could I keep that tablet thing so I can see she is ok?"

"Sorry, but leaving it behind would be a security risk."

Martha didn't like the idea of being out of the loop for that long, but at least they knew where Alexis was and were going to get her.

"You take care of this woman, and my son and granddaughter," she tried to say to Sarah with as much assertiveness as she could find. Martha then pulled a surprised Katherine into a hug.

"They'll be ok. We'll do anything for friends and family." Sarah headed out into the hallway.

"Are you sure about this woman?" Martha asked her son's partner.

"She's my best chance of getting to Castle before he does something stupid without backup. Forty-eight hours just became less than fifteen. Martha, I'll do everything I can to bring him and Alexis back," Katherine said quietly into her hair before pulling back and collecting her bag.

The door shut and they were gone.


	5. Airport Security

_Posted 5 Feb 2019_

* * *

Sarah stopped the Sienna on a vacant road. She had not driven to La Guardia or JFK, but she instead had driven to Teterboro Airport, which made sense to Beckett if they were taking a charter. What didn't make sense to her was they weren't at the front entrance.

"This is my stop. You go in through security and the gate. Here's your paperwork, and your fake ID. You only need the passport for the return trip. The flight plan has been filed, and the plane should be ready on the tarmac. Go ahead and board. I'll meet you there. If you have any problems, text my cell. It's on silent, but I'll check it every couple minutes. I'll rescue you in a few minutes if you signal. Any questions?"

Beckett didn't know where to begin. _Why did she need a fake ID?_

Sarah didn't provide enough time for Beckett to organize her thoughts. She opened the automatic side door and walked to it. Beckett saw her pull out some heavy duty wire cutters, a couple small electronic devices, and two guns.

"Are you sneaking guns past security?" Kate asked.

"That, and running an errand."

"I can get guns through with my badge. There's no need for a fake ID."

"An NYPD badge wouldn't help for international carry-on. These are tranq guns, which would set off all kinds of warning signals to the guards, even for a private plane. These guns could be used to incapacitate the crew without risking making a hole in the side of the plane. Trust me when I said being inside a plan with the side blown out is not fun. We don't want any evidence of being here."

"Won't a hole in the fence be a clue?"

"No immediate evidence will be linked to us or our flight. By the time they find it, we'll be halfway to France, maybe completely there."

"Why all of this sneaking around? Are you on the no-fly list or something?"

"No to the no-fly list. There was one time several months ago, but TSA deputized us air marshals. Let's just say this part is a little more complicated than the normal boarding at the airport. Detective. Kate. I need you to do something for me." She paused and stared her straight in the eyes. "Trust me."

"You're asking a lot."

"It's a fair trade. In return you get your boyfriend and his daughter home safely. And maybe a bonus, if everything goes right…" Sarah looked at her watch and didn't finish the thought. Instead she said, "We're running behind schedule." Without waiting for a response to her ask for trust, Sarah closed the door and started cutting at the perimeter fence.

Beckett didn't know what to do next. The van was still running. She remembered she was supposed to drive through the main entrance and pretend to be a pilot. She doubted this would ever work.

A few minutes later, Beckett buckled into the copilot's seat in the cockpit of the private jet. She figured that since she was wearing a pilot's outfit, it would look better than sitting in the passenger area, just in case anyone came aboard for something like an inspection. She'd been in place just long enough to start contemplating how to sneak off the plane and go back to the precinct, when Sarah claimed the pilot's seat. Beckett had not heard the outer door open. Sarah was still wearing her black spy apparel. Her 'cover' wasn't a pilot. Her cover was herself. She was playing a spy.

"Where did you come from?"

Sarah replied, "Wheel well," like it was obvious, as she slid on the headset and started flipping switches.

"Where have you been?"

"I had to wait to take out the second guard at the security station."

"You what?!" She was taking people out! This was all too extreme for the detective.

Sarah held up her hand and spoke through the microphone in a British accent. She asked for permission to taxi to the runway. She muted her mic and answered Beckett in the same accent, "It would have been easier if they were both there when I got there, but one was on a coffee break. I couldn't have him come back and discover his partner asleep before we take off."

"And by 'take out' you mean with the tranquilizer gun, I hope."

The plane backed away from the gate. Kate thought it probably was not a good idea to distract the driver when the driver was steering a Gulfstream.

Sarah didn't seem to mind. "Of course. Why would I slit the throat of two American TSA agents?" she said as if that was in the realm of the possibilities. "I used twilight darts so they only will be out a few minutes. They're probably awake now, thinking they were just tired. It was more important that they be knocked out at the same time."

Beckett held off on her next question until they were moving forward. "Why did you stop at security?"

"I was erasing the cameras that showed you arriving. I also looped the feed by the plane so I could sneak aboard. The loop is timed to end after we take off. The guards will wake up and simply think they were a little derelict on the night shift."

The plane reached the beginning of the runway, and Sarah exchanged a few more words with the tower. When she muted the mic again, Beckett said, "This is overkill. Why was it necessary to erase the video evidence? I saw _A Few Good Men_. There will be tower logs."

"I saw that movie too, just a couple months ago. That Colonel never should have ordered the code red, but he had one good point. Some methods are necessary on the front lines. He just should have owned up to his responsibility from the start. Not planning the cover up ahead of time is what always gets you killed."

"There's other evidence, like the van."

"Stolen. We were wearing gloves so there are no prints. There might be some hair evidence, but my national DNA database profile points to a person who died twelve years ago and if needed, yours is easy to suppress later by some hacking from my husband. A recovered car in the parking lot with a full tank won't be high on the priority list. A lot cars are in that lot for a week, so they will think it's one of those. Our car was rented with a fake ID, a fake credit card for an insurance and return guarantee, and cash. I might have Morgan pick it up before anyone realizes it's been abandoned. Oh, the tower logs. They're digital so they can be hacked too, but we might not bother with that. It might be useful to leave those for confusion. If it is too clean, it sometimes looks worse."

"What are you not telling me?" Kate wasn't complete buying the intricate cover story.

"Teterboro has a voluntary sound curfew, and we're going to break it."

"That's not it. What else?" Kate demanded.

Sarah pressed the throttle forward, and the plane reared.

"We're stealing this plane."


	6. Nine-tenths

_Posted 6 Feb 2019_

A/N: Possession is sometimes said to be nine-tenths of the law, but what if the other tenth is illegal?

* * *

Sarah switched on the autopilot and relaxed back in her seat. She rolled her neck and shoulders. After a few calming breaths, she looked at her co-pilot. The other woman hadn't said a word since the runway. She was just curled up in her seat, staring into the night sky over the Atlantic. They were just above the cloud layer, so it was kind of beautiful, not that she thought Beckett was noticing.

Sarah knew she had to solidify the detective's trust before France. The easy part of the mission was over, and she couldn't afford doubt from a member of her team. This was going to require an honest conversation and (mostly) full disclosure, at least of the part of the plan she knew. She trusted Chuck to come up with the rest.

The trust issue with the detective was going to get worse before it got better. Sarah wasn't looking forward to it. Talking was Chuck's job. Threatening was hers.

 _What would Chuck do in this situation? Ok, he'd freak out a little. Then he'd try some humor._ Sarah was even worse at humor than she was at talking. She had to start somewhere, though. Maybe Chuck had rubbed off a little.

"We should take shifts sleeping before we get to Paris. I'll take the first one, so you're in charge of flying the plane for the next three hours."

No reaction.

"Don't wake me unless they pursue with F-18s."

Still no reaction. She thought that one was pretty good. Maybe it wasn't funny because Sarah wasn't tired and Beckett was. Sarah had crashed for four hours in the afternoon while waiting for Beckman, Harris, and Mary to all be available all at the same time. She knew she'd be going non-stop from here on out. The detective really needed to take advantage of this opportunity to get some rest.

Or maybe Sarah's delivery needed some work.

"I assume this is your first time stealing a plane. Do you want to dwell on that some more, or do you want to talk about the rest of the mission now?"

Beckett finally turned to look at her. She wasn't happy. The look might intimidate some people, but Sarah was trained to face down terrorists and despots. An angry NYPD detective, even a master interrogator, didn't rank in the top half. At least it was a reaction. Sarah held her impassive look in return.

Beckett finally spoke. "I should arrest you, but you know I can't fly this plane myself."

"We took off from New Jersey, out of your jurisdiction. All of my crimes have been Federal anyway. The car theft was your jurisdiction until we crossed state lines, and the fraudulent rental was established with a fake ID which would make the New York travel a Federal issue."

"And since this is a Federal black op, there won't be consequences?"

"Yes, this is a black op, but that also means from here on out, we're on our own and can't get overt help from the US government. Beckman would probably spring us, but Alexis doesn't have time for use to deal with that. It'd be best not to get caught. The only reason why we have material support at all is Agent Mary Bartowski gave me temporary clearance to the new CIA station in New York."

"Your mother-in-law," Kate recognized. "What about when French authorities surround this plane after we land?"

"We're not landing at an official airport. Feel free to add false flight plan to your mental list of charges. We still will likely have a different kind of trouble when we get there, but it's a necessary resupply station for this mission. There won't be any customs."

"Resupply?"

Sarah didn't speak as if she was concerned. "The airfield is run by an arms dealer,"

"Of course it is. Friend of yours?"

"No. Not really. Their leader tried to kill me about seven years ago and failed spectacularly. Hopefully he has learned. I have a good deal for him in exchange."

Beckett ran her hand through her hair and sighed. "In exchange for what?"

"Some heavy weapons… and our lives"

"Of course." The 'of course' was getting more and more sarcastic. "What do guns and lives go for these days?"

"We're taking out their competition and leaving them this plane. I'm going to have to disable the beacon and remove the black box at some point before we get there, so this plane would be a better trading piece."

"We're taking out their competition? You mean Alexis is being held by—"

"A Russian arms dealer named Gregor Volkov. Chuck ID'd him while in Russia."

"That's where he was?" Beckett was firing questions quickly in an effort to maintain control. The trail ending in Russia would explain why the FBI's backtrace stopped.

"Yes, he was breaking into a data center in Moscow. From there he was able to track the network relay to the location in Paris where Alexis is being held."

"I could understand that El-Masri may have enemies like arms dealers, but why would they continue holding Alexis after the ransom was paid?"

"There is no indication of a link between Volkov and El-Masri. That ransom was a bonus for him. Alexis was the target all along."

That stopped Beckett for a moment of surprise. "Why?"

"Vendetta."

Beckett frowned in response to the vague answer. "Against whom? Castle? Did he offend someone in one of his books or something? That last Derrick Storm book was set in Russia and wasn't very good, but that was ghost written anyway. The previous Russia-based Storm book written by her writer was eight years ago, _Storm Front_."

"It wasn't from one of his books. It was another member of his family."

"Who then? Martha? You met her. She can be a character, especially when she's in actress-mode, but she's harmless."

"No. This is about Castle's father."

"Castle's father? He doesn't have a father."

Sarah tilted her head.

"Well, of course he has a father, but Castle doesn't know who it is," Beckett clarified.

"But Volkov does."

"He does? Who is he?" Beckett demanded.

"Castle's father is a disavowed spy."

"What? No." Kate paused and weighed this revelation. Maybe Sarah's bad joke earlier did have a useful purpose. Now the detective knew Sarah was not good at them so knew now this was no joke. "How long have you known?"

"Chuck made the connection when he fla… when he uncovered Volkov's history. Volkov's wife was killed by Castle's father, and he put Volkov in prison. Volkov escaped a few months ago."

Beckett realized something. "Castle's father must have been responsible for the farmhouse." She was an excellent detective, as demonstrated by that deduction.

"I believe so. As I said, that type of torture was popular with the CIA in the late cold war area. Now they primarily use water and electricity, while a few use sharp objects."

Beckett let a thought form before continuing, "You said he is disavowed. Does that mean he can't be trusted?"

"I am fairly certain he can be trusted to try to rescue his granddaughter. Whether or not he is the best person for that job is another story. As far as Chuck could tell, he's still loyal to the US government. The disavowment is likely a ruse. The men he supposedly killed when escaping an American prison have false identities which means they most likely are not dead. His cover is typical for when a burned-out spy goes into semi-retirement. It gives him the freedom for occasional off-the-books missions of the more unseemly nature or when someone doesn't want a job to appear like a US mission."

Beckett cautiously suggested, "You make him sound dangerous."

"Of course he is dangerous. So am I. He's a spy. Don't worry. He won't intentionally harm Castle. We just need to make sure Castle and his father agree with our plan. That's where you'll be an asset."

"You mean… how does he even know where Castle is?"

"We're picking up two pings from your boyfriend's cell phone. The second has the GPS off, but when we last checked it was in the same tower coverage as Castle's. We only pick up the double signal for a minute or so when they switch between towers. The two towers do not switch at the same time for the two phones."

"How do you know that?"

"Chuck hacked into the French telecommunications network while waiting at the airport in Moscow. He got lucky and found two signals. Castle should learn to turn off GPS for missions like this, but for now, his mistake is useful for us."

The detective brushed off the security suggestion and asked, "What is this great plan of yours?"

"We land at a weapons dealer outside Paris, trade a plane for some heavy weapons and a ride into Paris, meet up with Chuck, find Castle and his father, rescue Alexis, and turn Volkov over to Interpol."

"That easy, huh?"

"Interpol doesn't exactly like us."

" _That_ 's the hard part."

"We had a big misunderstanding a few years back. They still don't seem to realize we probably saved the lives of the two agents that survived. They're more hung up on the fact we drugged them and later punched them out to escape their custody so we could go and make things better. Those two survived while others we killed by terrorists. We prevented them from being killed, too."

"Great. You're wanted by Interpol."

"No. They just won't be cooperative because they don't like us. It might be safer to go with whoever DGSE picks for domestic matters, but we haven't reached out to them yet. Our contact may be out of the country. Also, she's Casey's ex. They parted on good terms, but you never know with foreign spies. Regardless, we might never interact with Interpol."

"What about all of the other hard parts?"

"We're counting on you to convince Castle to back our play instead of whatever dangerous idea his father may have devised."

"Why am I supposed to think your plan is any less crazy? You started by stealing a plane!"

She had a point. Maybe more disclosure was the best approach. Sarah had hoped to avoid this part of the discussion. "It isn't exactly stealing."

"It isn't borrowing if you trade it with arms dealers."

"No, I just mean… Here, let me show you."

Sarah leaned over to a floor panel, lifted and turned a handle. Underneath was a safe with a keypad. Sarah punched in a twelve digit code. A panel dropped for a thumb scanner. Sarah pressed her thumb, waited for the click, and opened the safe. She pulled out some of the contents.

"How did you know that was there? It used your print. Is this your plane?"

"Not anymore. It used to be." Sarah continued digging.

"Is that a gun?"

"Plus fake passports and a little cash. This was one of our go-stashes, like a go-bag. My silly husband forgot to clean this out when he sold the plane a year ago. At least he got the smaller bags in the 'shute packs."

 _Whoa, look at that. There's two boxes._

"You keep condoms in a safe." Kate observed, not sure what to think.

"The first time Chuck and I went on the run, his wallet condom had been borrowed by Morgan. We always keep at least a box locked up now. It's also a good idea to practice safety when on the run." Sarah explained as if it was perfectly reasonable. Upon finding the third box of condoms, though, Sarah knew her husband had really over packed, even for him. It's not like they couldn't resupply. When they had to get food, they could get other things.

Sarah showed the detective a cover id with the blonde's photo, which was buried at the bottom. Sarah had burned that one when she realized it was compromised after they sold the plane. Beckett's looked as if she was more exacerbated than angry. Sarah didn't know if that was closer to trusting. She needed Chuck for this conversation.

Sarah opened a vial from the bottom and dumped the liquid over the rest of the contents, including the burned cover IDs, which started to dissolve. She closed the safe, knowing the contents inside were destroyed.

"That was money," Kate quietly said.

She had just destroyed several stacks of cash: dollars, pounds, and euros. All in total it was equivalent to about five thousand, US. She was lucky it wasn't more. She expected fifty Gs in a go-stash. They must have raided it for funds when Carmichael Industries was strapped for cash before her memory wipe. Sarah explained, "If we carry it off the plane, the arms dealers will confiscate it. I try not to fund terrorism. We'll take care of the plane later. They'll want to refuel anyway. I just don't want them finding the money before we can destroy the plane."

Beckett finally said, "Ok, you sold this plane. What if the buyers press charges?"

"This is where it gets interesting."

"Just now, huh?"

"When looking for transport, we found this unique opportunity for a bank shot, to hurt one obstacle on the way to taking out another."

Sarah could see the detective working it out. "Whose plane is this?"

"We sold the plane to a political group that became Freedom First, a Super PAC in DC, but they gave the plane away in what could be considered an illegal campaign contribution."

"NOW you are worried about legality." Beckett continued to press. "You think whoever owns the plane now won't want any fuss. Who did they give it to?"

Sarah didn't need the interrogation. She was planning on telling the whole story anyway, but she did see the value of letting the detective think she was controlling the conversation. In a moment, that illusion would be gone. "When the fence opening at the airport is found, the guards will figure out their sleepiness was not an accident, and they'll talk. There will be an investigation. It just won't point to us."

"You're trying to expose this person."

"Yes. If he reacts, he's more likely to make a mistake."

"Who is it?"

"He was affiliated with the Ring, a defunct organization that tried an intelligence organization coup three years ago. They locked up General Beckman, and they captured and planned to kill Casey, Chuck, and me. They're responsible for killing Chuck's dad. Morgan rescued us."

"Morgan? Seriously?" That distracted Beckett for a moment, providing a chance to ease her into it. Not that this could ever be revealed easily.

"It was really bad. Chuck's sister and her husband, who are untrained civilians, even helped extract us from custody. We stopped the Ring and caught the leadership, but we didn't catch everyone, like the 'owner' of this plane."

"Why not just reveal this person? Turn him in? You have enough contacts with the CIA and NSA."

"We only identified him a few months ago."

"You're in the FBI network whenever you feel like it, apparently. Why not…" Beckett trailed off. "You have a different source." The detective was very clever. She figured out the Feds didn't know, but Carmichael Industries had another source. She could never imagine the Intersect or why they wanted to keep that a secret.

"Yes. With Sophia Turner, we might have revealed a little too much. We can't afford to take the risk of revealing our source again."

"But you didn't reveal anything. Chuck just knew she was a traitor."

"And you should stop trying to figure it out right now."

Beckett stopped, and Sarah stared her down until saw acceptance.

After a moment, Beckett continued, "Ok. But you still haven't answered my question. Who owns this plane?" she insisted.

"Before I say, just remember your role in this mission is still compartmentalized. It's why I had to break into airport security records. More important than hiding me was hiding you. There is no evidence of your involvement, and he never needs to know of your involvement. Later, it might be useful, strategically. We'll see."

"Who is it?" She was almost there.

"This plane was an illegal campaign contribution from the DC lobbying organization," Sarah repeated what she said earlier.

"You said that. Lobbying group… You mean… This plane belongs to..." Sarah saw the detective crumble before her eyes.

"The US Senator from New York, William Bracken."


	7. More Arrows

_Posted 7 Feb 2019_

A/N: Why put more wood behind fewer arrows when it's just as effective to put he same wood behind more arrows?

* * *

Kate felt her throat constrict. She had to remember to breathe.

"My mother," she whispered.

The spy didn't react. Her stone face was completely impassive. That meant she knew. Of course she knew. Carmichael Industries seemed to know everything. It was getting annoying.

How could they know and not come to her sooner? This was a deep betrayal, and Sarah waited until Kate could do nothing about it. Kate couldn't land the plane. When they landed, she couldn't hail a cab from the middle of an arms smuggler's secret camp. Then there was Castle. She need them to find him. From what she heard about Castle's father, he wasn't trustworthy either. He was another spy. She needed to get to Castle to back him up so they could rescue Alexis, who was being held by another yet arms dealer. She couldn't take on an arms dealer in a foreign country without help.

"Are you wondering where the parachutes are?" the spy asked.

 _What? Parachutes?_ They were over the ocean.

Sarah acknowledged, "Yeah, it'd be a long swim, but there are emergency beacons in the packs, at least there were when we sold the plane. We had four packs with 'shutes."

"I'm not going to jump out of a plane."

"Good call, but if you are going to try to land the plane, please let me bail out first. The last time I fell out of a plane I was unconscious most of the way down. I don't recommend it. I want to be awake this time so I don't land in water again. I could aim for a train station. That'd be better than stealing a motorcycle."

"You think this is funny? You are messing with my life. My mother…"

"Was killed by Dick Coonan for a contract commissioned by Bracken. We know."

"How long?"

"When Castle was arrested last fall. Chuck…investigated some of your recent cases before he found the 3XK connection. He figured out Cole Maddox was also hired by Bracken."

"I called you to help find Alexis, not antagonize my mother's killer."

"You aren't working fast enough."

"Fast enough? This is _my_ mother. She was killed when I was 19. They dismissed it as random violence, but _I_ didn't. This is my _life_. You have nothing to do with it. I'm working as fast as I can."

"We need him taken out," Walker said in a no-nonsense tone.

"I may not fully understand how you spies work, but this isn't about killing him. This is about justice."

"That's why you saved his life a few weeks ago?" Sarah asked. Somehow, she knew Detective Beckett had saved Bracken from an unrelated assassination attempt.

"I was doing what's right. Whatever might have happened wouldn't have brought my mother justice."

"That's very 'Chuck' of you. Casey wants to shoot the traitor, and my instinct is to agree, but Chuck's too noble for that."

"If you know what Bracken has done, why don't you turn him in?"

"Why don't you?"

Beckett didn't answer.

Sarah asked, "Are you worried about retaliation?"

"They can come! Everyone else who has is dead."

"I like your confidence, but that doesn't get you justice." Sarah paused, and came to a realization. "You don't have enough evidence, do you?"

Beckett dropped her head. "It was destroyed by a bomb. The man who collected the information was killed."

"Maybe, or maybe Smith faked his death. That doesn't matter. What matters is Bracken knows you know."

Beckett nodded. _Wait a second. How did she know about Smith?_

Sarah said, "You're bluffing him. That explains the facial wound last fall. It was a parting shot before your détente. I know a pistol whipping wound when I see one, having been at both ends of one." Sarah huffed out an aborted laugh. "You have a pact of mutually assured destruction. Very 'Cold War' of you. Casey would be proud. Even with that, Bracken used you for protection a few weeks ago."

"I was hoping to find more evidence, and Bracken is a sadistic bastard."

"But you didn't find anything."

"No. I need what you know." Beckett knew she sounded desperate. The spy held all of the cards, as long as Alexis was hostage.

"Sorry, our evidence isn't admissible. There are national security concerns at lot more serious than a single, evil US Senator or even a caucus of them."

"What? Did you find it in one of the government computers in which you shouldn't have been snooping around in?"

Sarah hesitated. "I can't reveal our source."

"Instead you're taunting him by stealing his plane?"

"If our source is revealed, everyone I care about is put at risk. I can't chance it. We aren't taunting him. We're setting him up."

"It won't work. Bracken's too careful."

Sarah smiled. Not a pleasant one. This was more predatory. "Bracken's out of his league. He only lasted this long because we didn't know about him. If we were still in the CIA, we could have used the Patriot Act, even against someone like him, and this would be over. But now, we have to proceed carefully."

"Stealing a plane is careful?!"

"It's rattling the cages. We know about his drug pipeline. One of my bridesmaids is DEA, and we've sent her some leads **.** She's not subtle, but she's good. I give his organization three more weeks, six at the tops. She thinks the job is a necessary step to make her a godparent, but Chuck's sister and even Morgan are far more maternal, making them higher on the list. However, severing the connection between the drugs and Bracken is not enough. That'd just be cutting off his current money supply. He's a politician. He can always get more. Getting him nervous about his plane will make him sloppy."

"He's not up for reelection for six more years."

"Try three. That energy speech you stopped. That's the first step in a Presidential run. We can't let that happen."

No. That couldn't be. Her mother's murderer was not going to be President. "He couldn't."

"Have you read his energy plan?" Sarah asked.

Kate shook her head. "No one reads those. They are always fiction."

"I have a lot of free time to do risk assessment while Chuck is doing his computer thing. Bracken's plan classifies Ethanol enriched gasoline as a wholly renewable resource, not just the corn-based percentage. That farce will help him win Iowa, even though that part of the plan would never get past his own party's platform. It makes him look just independent enough from his party. Coming from New York, he'd have to be incompetent to lose New Hampshire. The reason it was so easy to alter his flight plan was he had another passenger flight already scheduled to run an empty plane for pick-up. It was to South Carolina to fly his state campaign manager back to New York."

Those were pieces that together made too much sense. "He's really gearing up for a Presidential run?"

"We both know he has the money to at least partially self-fund, at least on the surface. It would make him look independent of the lobbying groups, even though this plane proves otherwise."

Kate said, "He's hiding too much. He knows better than to throw himself in the spotlight. He couldn't survive it."

"Presidential candidates really don't get vetted as well as you would think. If he were to win the Iowa caucus and the first two primaries in New Hampshire and South Carolina, no one else would be able to get funds, and he'd walk away with the nomination. That would short-circuit most of the vetting. It would also mean a Secret Service detail. At that point it'd be too late. I've worked Secret Service. It'd be too hard to take him out at that point. Preventing his early wins would give us time to gather other evidence."

"You say you worked Secret Service, but you're talking about assassinating a US Senator."

"I'm talking about protecting the people I care about from a traitor. I said he was affiliated with the Ring. Three years ago we took out the Ring's Director and Elders after they tried to kill us and had successfully completed their intelligence coup. We defeated them, and now most of the organization has been dissolved. Those who got away were low on the food chain or were part of the foreign branches. Anyone else who escaped was extremely well insulated, likely one step below the Elder Council. People like Bracken."

"You have evidence Bracken is one of those people, but you can't use that evidence?"

"Currently, coming forward with the evidence is more dangerous than other options. We can still take on Bracken. Revealing our source would be taking on _everyone_. By everyone I mean _every_ rogue spy, arms dealer, and dictator with an agenda. We did that for _five_ years. It led to my memory being wiped. Not again, if I have anything to say about it. We'd only reveal our source if Bracken was assured of winning the election. We can't risk a former Ring ally as President. He'd have all of us killed."

"Presidents can't just kill people."

"They absolutely can. Trust me. I'm a former CIA assassin. We've taken on power enemy espionage factions that were trying to kill us, three times. That was hard enough. If the full weight of the Presidency was behind an erasure order, our lives would be over."

"Why don't you take him out now? I'm after justice, but I have the feeling you don't care about that."

"I don't, not really. I mostly care about safety. If we can do a little good in the world, that's a bonus. However, Chuck and I are considering babies. We were giving my memory problem and recovery a year. That time's up. Now it's all about risk assessment. Bracken is in a group of five or so that need to be neutralized before we start a family and truly retire from the spy business."

"By neutralized, you mean kill," Beckett said.

"Chuck's doesn't like that."

"Wasn't he CIA too?"

"Yes, but he cheated on his Red Test. That's what we call the first kill order test for trainees. Chuck doesn't kill people. He doesn't like real guns, which is the real reason I brought the tranqs. He couldn't smuggle those on a commercial flight to Russia, and the arms dealers will only have the real thing. If necessary, I'll take out Bracken, but I avoid that sort of thing as much as possible for his benefit. Chances are Gertrude will mail him a grenade before it gets that far."

"Gertrude?"

"Casey's girlfriend. She's ex-KGB, converted capitalist. Carmichael Industries has a partnership with her company. She runs a security consulting firm, and by security consulting I mean wet work. We handle their more advanced tech needs, and Casey does a lot of missions for them."

"I see." She really didn't.

"I know you have this cold war, mutually assured destruction thing going with Bracken, but Casey is a Reaganite: victory through strength. We're going forward no matter what. If you want to be a part of it, that fine. You could be an asset. If you want to stay on the sidelines, that's ok too. Either way, this is happening. I just thought you have a right to know." Sarah sighed and waited a moment. "How can I get you to trust us?"

"It's _my_ mother."

"How big is your circle?"

Kate stayed silent.

"Castle?"

She gave a single nod.

"Your team? Esposito and Ryan."

"Yes."

"Your Captain?"

"No. It's only family. Well, part of it. Castle and I haven't decided if we should tell Alexis, Martha, and my dad, but for now it is just the four of us."

"That might be for the best until right before it's time. Then, they need to know so they understand any fallout or blow back and can help where it makes sense. At least your team knows now. Protecting them by keeping them in the dark is the CIA protocol, but it always backfires for long-term missions. We kept my sister-in-law and her husband out of it for three years, but when her dad was killed and we were about it be, they helped anyway. Just think of it this way: now your team includes the five of us with Carmichael Industries. We will keep it compartmentalized from our partners. Your new circle is a little bigger group, and it's better equipped. You've met four of us in person, and the fifth you met in calls is Casey's daughter, Alex, who manages our office and is starting to quarterback ops."

"I want to bring Bracken to justice. Killing him without a trial will make him a hero."

"Not with the drug pipeline ties, which would come out. Drug kingpins are not heroes. Prison might be a solution, but people get out of prison. Case in point: Alexis's kidnapper was in prison until recently. Morgan says the only way to make sure someone is really dead is if you see brain matter. Yeah, I know. Invoking Morgan doesn't help my cause, but he has a point. Chuck says impalement works, not that he would ever do that. He's afraid of needles, which are just little foils for impalement. Frankly, I'm fine with making Bracken impotent, figuratively. If he's too afraid to do anything, he's not a threat. We're still in the recon phase. Even the drug pipeline op is compartmentalized. A lot can change."

The knot in Beckett's stomach didn't unwind, but her head knew there was nothing she could do about it now.

Sarah adopted a lighter tone. "But first, we need to rescue Alexis. You really should get some sleep. In a few hours, we get to stare down some arms dealers, so I need you rested."

* * *

Kate woke and checked her watch. She was surprisingly rested considering she only had a little over four hours. The cabin lights were on, and the plane engines changed pitch. It felt like they were descending. Game face time. Last night was a mess of stealing planes and trampling over her Bracken investigation. She still wasn't sure how she felt about it all, but it would have to keep.

She changed into the 'covert spy' outfit she had cobbled together: black pants, dark gray turtleneck, black leather three-quarters length coat with wool lining, and her black, high-heeled boots. She finished up in the restroom just as she felt the plane touch down, with the jolt almost knocking her over. _So much for the 'Fasten Seatbelts' warning._

After the engines shut down, Sarah emerged from the cockpit, wearing the same outfit at last night. Or was it morning? What time was it?

"It's 4:47 pm local time," Sarah said as Kate checked her watch. "I was hoping for better time, but we're ok. I have a few minutes to talk these guys down before we leave to find Chuck."

Kate noticed the spy appeared unarmed. The tranquilizer guns were loose on a seat. Seeing her eyes, Sarah said, "They're arms dealers. They have us outgunned anyway. I need you to stay close. If something goes wrong, make sure they don't get between us. I'll get us out. Do you know French?"

 _Arms dealers, French, what? Oh yeah._ They were in France. "I haven't used it since high school."

"That's ok. They're French Moroccan, so the accent will be a little thick. Just keep quiet and look tough. Can you do that?"

"I stare down murders for a living."

"But normally you have a gun. This time, our hands and feet and my knives are our only weapons." _What knives?_ "You need to act like that is more than enough. You need to sell it."

"Even though it isn't."

Sarah shrugged and the corner of her mouth tilted. She must have had the delusion of thinking it was enough. Two effectively unarmed women against an army. Even Kate wasn't that naïve.

"You have to sell it," she repeated. "Can you do that?"

"Yes." That sounded more confident than she felt. For Castle, for Alexis, she could do it.

"One last thing. No mention of Alexis. As far as they are concerned, the mission is to take out Gregor Volkov."

Kate nodded.

"Let's go."

* * *

Well, that was a disaster. Kate had almost been convinced that this spy team would rescue Alexis, take out Bracken, and she and Castle would live happily ever after.

After seeing how they operated in the field first hand, she had no such delusions. At least she was alive, and on her way to Castle.


	8. What Happened

_Posted 8 Feb 2019_

* * *

 _ **In a Paris apartment**_

"So what do think? Are you ready to be a spy?"

Part of Castle was about to explode. He had been wishing his entire life to be a spy. The excitement, the adventure, the women. Not that he needed the women anymore. He had the woman he wanted in Beckett. He had the adventure too, at the NYPD. Beckett could totally be a spy, though. They could be a spy team, together, like Brangelina. The thought of Kate in black, head-to-toe leather, holding a gun with a silencer. Oh boy. They'd be like Chuck and Sarah. Well, maybe not like them. He wouldn't disappear in the middle of a case—a mission—leaving an innocent young woman in the hands of some Russian arms dealer.

Leaving his daughter.

That squashed his yearning for adventure. This was serious. His dad was a real spy. Not him. Forget the dream of being a suave action hero. He was almost overwhelmed with fear. But as a father, that fear was not a problem. He would do anything for his daughter.

"Yes. I can do this," Castle told his long, lost father.

The other man, Jackson Hunt as he named himself, looked at Castle, judging. Castle hadn't felt that stare down since boarding school. Montgomery came close sometimes. Beckett often tried at work. Her look worked on others, like the boys, but there was too much electricity between them for it to work on him. This was the look from a father.

His father finally gave him a short nod. "Let's go over the plan again."

Castle jumped at a knock on the door. Glancing at his dad, Castle saw a gun was already drawn, his other hand was raised to his lips, telling Castle to be quiet.

"Castle, it's me."

Castle couldn't stay quiet. "That's Beckett."

"How'd she find us?" Hunt tried to grab his arm at the elbow, but Castle was already on his way to the door.

"I don't know, but I trust her. You can put the gun down." Hunt didn't deviate. The gun stayed level at the door.

Castle opened the door. Sometimes, when he first saw Kate after an absence, he still heard this noise. He wasn't corny enough to say it was angels singing, but the music in his head was undeniable. It was more of a hundred person choir, with no harps. It sometimes happened in the morning, when he woke to her presence in his bed. Ok, when the light was just right, his mental soundtrack had instrumentation, too. It also happened whenever he hadn't seen her in a while, when he really needed her at his side.

This was one of those times.

Beckett vaulted into his arms. It was one of those we-just-survived-a-bomb, full-body hugs. She whispered in his ear, "Don't ever leave me like that again."

Yeah, she had a point. He screwed up not telling her. Forget the part about leaving the country without telling his girlfriend. She's his partner. He should have invited her along. Alexis's kidnapping was making him not think straight. He needed his partner. He mumbled an apology into her coat. Maybe she could help with his dad's plan.

His dad.

Meeting Beckett.

She released him and saw the widened eyes. Her look immediately switched to one of concern, like she had overstepped. Castle needed to explain to her the full situation.

"Beckett, this is my—" His father was still pointing a gun at Beckett.

No. Not at Beckett.

At the door.

Where Chuck and Sarah walked into the increasingly crowded apartment.

In a replay of the farmhouse, Chuck had his arms bent at the elbows, hands raised by his face. Unlike the farmhouse, Sarah was not indifferent. She had her gun raised, pointed right back at his father.

Chuck spoke first, with a nervous chatter, "Why is everyone always pointing guns at us?"

* * *

After a couple tense minutes, culminating with assurances that there would be no gunfire, no stab wounds, nor any other causes of bleeding or bruising, Castle and Beckett retreated to the hall. Castle needed to find out what was going on. He was still surprised Carmichael Industries was on the case all along, even with their claims of being 'the spies who care.'

His dad had a plan for him to save Alexis, complete with blueprints. Sure, a few details seemed missing, but Castle knew he could do it for his daughter.

Carmichael Industries seemed to have other plans. Plans even thinner on details, or at least details they were willing to share. Somehow they had tracked Castle down at his father's safe house. _Weren't safe houses supposed to be secret?_

He didn't know who to trust: the father who abandoned him, or other ex-spy mercenaries who also disappeared without explanation.

Correction.

He knew who to trust. He trusted Beckett.

Unlike the Meredith incident, he didn't miss 'The Look' this time. She wanted to talk to him without all of the guns as distraction. Out in the hall wasn't really that private, but he needed Beckett to tell him what to do.

Looking in her eyes, he saw so much compassion, his heart almost broke. Was this how he looked at her when she talked about her mother? No wonder she hated it when he stuck his nose into her mom's case. The difference was now they could do something about this problem. They had come half way around the planet to do something.

He cupped her face, a little awkwardly because she wouldn't let go of his left hand, a little like when they were cuffed together a few cases ago. Her free hand pressed flat against his chest, preventing him from devouring her like he wanted, but they kissed. The kiss was soft, conveying as much emotion as he could. After too brief a moment, she pushed back, despite her traitorous mouth lingering on his bottom lip. She still didn't release his left hand, grabbing the other hand as she looked in his eyes.

"I don't know who to trust more." She seemed to have expected the concern without his statement. His mistake in leaving her behind didn't ruin their mental connection.

 _How did you find us?_ he thought to her.

"Chuck did some computer trick to track the cloned cell phone."

 _I thought it was supposed to be secure._

"Not from them."

 _Where was Chuck?_

"Moscow. The video feed back traced through some data center they used to own."

 _They owned a data center in Russia?_

"It doesn't make sense to me either. Something about it was only for a few months and was a wedding gift, not that the government in Russia doesn't own anything it wants."

 _Where was Sarah?_

"Sarah was getting a black-op approved up the chain of command, and using the opportunity to bitch slap the FBI because they deserved it."

 _How did you get to Paris?_

"She stole a freaking plane.

 _What?!_

"She left it with some arms dealers."

 _WHAT?_! Beckett didn't repeat herself. Their almost telepathic link severed. Castle verbally said, "Tell me what happened. I think we have a few more minutes before the spies kill each other. Tell me everything."

* * *

 _ **Three hours earlier.**_

It was supposed to be a simple trade. Ok, not so simple, but it was supposed to be mutually beneficial to everyone. Walker and Beckett would get some weapons and a ride into the city. The arms dealers would get the plane and a promise to take out their competition.

First impressions were tense. Sarah and Kate exited the plane to be greeted by a platoon of armed mercenaries. Sarah didn't bother to raise her hands, so Kate followed suit. Despite the ex-CIA agent treating her like a rookie at times, Beckett knew how to sell a cover, even one as audacious as this one. She supposed she was a rookie in the spy world.

After they reached the cracked dirt of the landing strip, two of the guards tried to pass them to inspect the plane. Sarah wouldn't budge. When the first guard shoved her shoulder with the nozzle of his assault rifle, Kate saw a flash of anger in the ex-spy.

Two seconds later that guard was on his back. His partner was hunched over, holding his nether regions. One weapon had skidded across the ground, while Sarah was holding the other one.

The other guards clenched their weapons but fortunately had the discipline not to fire. Surprisingly, no one spoke.

Sarah slowly scanned the group with a look of disapproval. The guards and Sarah were waiting for something to happen. After a minute, a new man pushed his way through the crowd and sized up the women. He asked a question Beckett couldn't quite follow. The accent was very thick. Sarah responded in French slowly, likely for Kate's benefit, that they wanted to see the person in charge. They made another couple exchanges, all posturing. Beckett could follow most of it, so Sarah really didn't need to enunciate so deliberately. Beckett just wished she also had a gun; she was the only one without one. Though to be honest, at this range it likely didn't matter. They were outgunned thirteen to one, and Sarah's captured weapon wasn't even raised. Beckett did retrieve the weapon on the ground.

Finally, Sarah seemed to have made her point with an idiomatic version of "an offer you can't refuse." A couple of the less disciplined mercs actually laughed. The lieutenant pulled out his radio and called it in. Beckett was surprised, but didn't miss the tiny slip in the spy's exterior.

That wasn't French. A tonal language. Something Far Eastern.

Sarah's surprise was virtually unnoticeable, even to a master interrogator like Beckett, but she saw it. It didn't last though, as Sarah called out something in the same language. At least if the spy knew the language, they were less likely to be ambushed with another one or two dozen mercenaries, Beckett thought grimly.

Tactically, the Detective noted they were completely surrounded. Sarah has subtly worked them into the middle of the group, with Beckett guarding her right flank the entire time. While they no longer could escape to the plane, taking off would be impractical from a cold start under weapons fire. This way, any escalation would result in friendly crossfire from their captors. They were possibly safer, from a certain point of view.

After another couple minutes, the group parted for the next man up the chain of command.

That's when everything went sideways. Wasn't it already sideways? Maybe in flipped upside down.

Before Beckett knew what happened, two more people were on the ground, and the new man, a dwarf from somewhere in Southeast Asia, was screaming out in pain.

* * *

 _ **Back in the hall**_

"Wait," Castle interrupted. "Did you say dwarf? Like a midget."

"Yes, I think he was he was a dwarf, not a midget. He was from Thailand. Apparently the French arms dealer's organization was overtaken by a group out of Thailand. Or was about to be. That was never clear."

"Surrounded by mercenaries, out of nowhere, and for no reason, Sarah attacked a Thai midget."

"Dwarf. Yes, but she had a reason, I found out later."

"What does she have against little people?"

"It's not all little people, just this particular one. A couple years ago she was in some hand-to-hand pit fight in the Thailand jungle."

"She fought dwarfs in Thailand."

"No. It was the regional champion who had a tendency of killing the opposition. This dwarf was not in the fight. He was the right hand man of the organizer, and when Sarah was winning he threw the opposition a knife. She won anyway, but because of her memory issues, she didn't remember the specifics immediately and decided it was prudent to throw him a knife. Through his shoe."

"Of course. How else is one supposed to resolve an unknown grudge? I can't believe I missed it. I guess I'm lucky she remembers me on better terms. How did you escape?"

* * *

The next minute or so was filled with a lot yelling, both in French and Thai, but fortunately, no gunshots. While no one was helping the injured man, everyone's guns seemed to have lowered slightly. That might not last long, so Beckett took a gamble that the best way to de-escalate everyone else was to be the person to escalate even further. After all, Sarah told her to sell it.

She picked up a dropped rifle, pointed it skyward, fired a single shot, and yelled in English, "Enough!"

That shut everyone up. The gamble worked, as no one returned fire. The problem with this plan was everyone was now looking at her like she was in charge. She looked to Sarah and saw a slight upturn of the corner of her mouth. She approved. Not willing to fully cede control, she took advantage of the quiet. Well, quiet except for the wailing man with the impaled shoe. In English she said, "Get me Wairootaporn." As almost an afterthought, she added, "And somebody clean up this mess."

The two men she had taken out previously ran off, volunteering for the task that would get them away from the woman who had embarrassed them. No one helped the crying man on the ground.

A minute later, one of the men came back with two more henchmen, presumably from Thailand, to attend to the injured lieutenant. One pulled out the knife without much care, removed the shoe, and wrapped the foot in a towel, not that there was much blood. Sarah hit between the toes, _Adventures in Babysitting_ style. Most of the damage was from the victim's post-throw flailing. The medic grabbed his feet while the other extremely muscular man lifted under the shoulders. Sarah walked over to retrieve her knife. When the medic of the pair noticed her, he dropped the feet with a thud. The other man looked at her, and their patient's head went down to the ground hard. This second man pulled up into a boxing stance and started yelling at Sarah in Thai.

She sighed in response saying, "You really want a rematch? Do you realize I have the knife this time? You know I don't have time for this. Take this man away and send your boss. I recommend you not return until I'm gone. I might break more than your jaw this time."

Beckett remembered Sarah saying she had bad history with the French arms dealers, but the history with the Thai contingent seemed just as bad. Resigned to a confrontation, Sarah gave her knife to Beckett, clearly indicating Sarah didn't need it. She then made a point of slowly pulling another knife from a sheath at her back. She was going for a third knife when three more men arrived: one from earlier and two more that weren't in mixed military fatigues. The first was European, likely French, and the other was Thai, over-bundled in a heavy parka. He didn't like the cold.

The latter spoke first. "If it isn't the Giant Blonde She-Male. Vulgar name, but they do still tell stories about the warrior woman who took no prisoners, leaving no one dead, just a lot of broken wrists, arms, legs, faces, and hearts in her wake. Still looking for your, who was it, Chuck?"

"Fortunately for you, my husband is not here. Be careful. You should remember I can be very defensive of him."

The man in the parka was clearly the salesman of this criminal organization. His hair was too greasy. His smile too large. She later found out he was the person who ran the fighting matches in the jungles of Thailand. "Ah, so you crazy kids got together. Wonderful. Everyone stand down. Agent Walker—yes, I learned your name from my contact at the Thai consulate—Agent Walker, here is our guest. She won fair and square last time. Well, maybe not fair for her, but she did win, ending a perfect record. Be happy lives weren't lost. She also did us a great favor, eliminating the Belgian. Here to do us another favor?" The last question directed to Sarah.

"In fact, I am."

He clapped his hands. "Excellent. Which of my problems are you here to eliminate this time? Is someone holding a man for your friend?" He indicated Beckett.

Beckett was starting to get a picture of the history. A rival of this Thai arms dealer must have held Chuck, so Sarah had to defeat the muscular man to earn the right to go after the rival. Sure, there was a lot of supposition there, but she wasn't building a case so she didn't need hard facts. Hanging around Castle for over four years helped her fill in a plausible story, well, plausible when looking at it from a Castlesque point of view.

Before Sarah could elaborate that they were trying to rescue her man's daughter, something Beckett wasn't sure about sharing, the Frenchman jumped into the conversation. His scowl had not disappeared throughout the exchange. "I don't know who you think this is, but I would never forget Elana Truffaut. You killed four of my best men. This woman is CIA. You can't trust her!"

"I retired from the CIA. I'm working private security now."

The two men looked at Beckett. She just became the employer in their eyes. She wasn't sure about taking over negotiations. Sarah's Thai pit fighting mystique had seemed to keep this small army at bay. Beckett didn't think she could seriously pull off a cover that extreme, no matter how much she tried to sell it. With Sarah, it wasn't a cover. It's what she actually did. Half the men looked scared. No one was pointing a weapon directly at them anymore, in fear of poking the tiger.

Sarah continued, "Your assassins shouldn't have tried to kill me, at what should have been a very nice dinner. Your men took me on, and the best woman won. Ask your friend here. I'm not to be trifled with. However, if you do me a small favor, I have a proposition which could be very advantageous to you."

The salesman was open to the idea. "What do you have in mind?"

"A trade."

"Looking for another boyfriend on the side?"

Sarah sneered, actually sneered at the man who could order the men to open fire. "Of course not. I brought you this plane in exchange for a truck or van with enough gas to get us to Paris and enough munitions so we can do you a second favor."

The Frenchman said, "Why shouldn't we just kill you and take the plane? You probably have trackers on in anyway. Former CIA or not, you can't be tru—" The other man held up his hand to the Frechman's chest, cutting him off. The power struggle was obvious, but the rest of the group didn't seem surprised or concerned. The two must be disagreeing a lot. They were probably the French and Thai leaders. They might shoot each other, although the odds of Walker and Beckett escaping without getting caught in crossfire were small.

"Hear the woman out. What is this favor you offer?" Wairootaporn asked.

Addressing the close-minded one first she said, "You'll find the black box in pieces on the front seat of the cabin. You'll have to quickly learn to trust me about additional trackers because our mission can't wait for you to bring in experts to disassemble the plane."

"This mission is why you need weapons? We supply militia. What could you possibly be doing that would need what we have?"

"We're going to take out Gregor Volkov," Sarah stated.

Negotiations proceeded quickly after the general murmur died down, and they moved to one of the larger sheds. The Frenchman maintained a steady glare, but both men seemed to know that if Sarah Walker wanted Volkov gone, it was at least worth the supplies to let her try.

* * *

"If the enemy of my enemy takes on my other enemy, at least one enemy will be gone." Castle said.

"I remember. From _Unholy Storm_."

Castle grinned.

"Shut it, babe. I'm telling my story." At least he didn't use the cliché in his book.

* * *

Beckett had seen seized arms caches before, many larger than this one. These weapons were more exotic, though—not for street gangs. Walker seemed completely in her element. What surprised Beckett the most was the volume of weapons and ammunition they were taking: two RPG launchers with four rockets each, two MP5A2s with enough clips for a sustained pitch battle of several hours, ten flash bangs, three 98 Bravo sniper rifles, a Smith & Wesson 5906 for Sarah with half a dozen clips, and a Glock 19 for Beckett although she didn't want to carry quite that many extra clips. Sarah added the rest to their supply cases.

Sarah explained they were getting additional tactical support in the city. The Thai man presumed it would be Mr. Casey and "the little man with the unloaded Desert Eagle," but Sarah didn't comment.

While they were making their selections, someone retrieved their supplies and the tranq pistols from the plane. Sarah wasn't too happy about it and made her point by completely inspecting the contents of the bags. Her undergarments got a rude comment, which quickly earned a "you better shut up" rifle butt to side of the head from another member of the platoon. Sarah had an admirer and defender of her honor, not that she paid the interchange any notice, even with an unconscious body on the ground. The fan was actually one of the men she had initially taken out. Fortunately, there was no sign of the two men with the biggest grudges.

After how everything had begun, it was going relatively smoothly. As they were finishing up, a man came running up and whispered in the Thai man's ear. His grin changed from smooth salesman to creepy. "Excellent, maybe we can have some fun after all."

The word "fun" caught Sarah's attention. Beckett didn't want to know what these men thought would be fun, either.

A moment later, two mercs entered pushing a third, taller man into the weapons shed. This man was none other than Chuck.

"Hi, honey," Chuck sheepishly said.

"Chuck, what are you doing here?" Sarah wasn't expecting him and wasn't happy he was there.

The Thai man interrupted, "My best fighter wants a rematch. Sure, last time he threw dirt in your face, had a knife and a table, but you had Mr. Casey backing you up. This time, it'll just be the two of you. If you win, you get your husband. It he wins… well, I do want you to take out Volkov, but if you don't win, I guess you won't be doing that. We'll just get a plane."

Sarah stared down the man for a moment, then she quietly turned her head to her husband and nodded once. Chuck made a weird cross-eyed face.

Beckett might have blinked. Before she knew what had happened, Chuck had taken out the two guys holding him. Sarah handsprung over the table, grabbing a gun as she went. She tossed the gun to Chuck as she grabbed another. He quickly shot three more men, with what turned out to be a tranq gun. Sarah's wasn't. She pistol whipped the Frenchman and held the gun directly at the forehead of the man who had turned the tables on her.

"Today is your lucky day, Wat. On a normal day, threatening my husband would call for a permanent response. You remember what I did in Thailand before I even found your compound. This would be worse. Today, however, our mission is to destroy a different organization, not yours. We don't have need for a plane anymore, so you get to keep that, and we are still going to take down Volkov."

With Beckett left covering the Thai bossman, Sarah turned to her husband, "Chuck, how did you get here?"

"Black SUV. I decided against the panel truck after we were outed as a spy team last time."

 _As if a black SUV didn't scream government vehicle._ Sure, they weren't government, but it's still not subtle, and Castle would back her on the thought.

Sarah rolled her eyes and said, "Let's go. Please help me with the weapons, sweetie."

After a few chuckles from the non-tranquilized peanut gallery, Chuck whined softly, "What did I say about pet names in front of the arms dealers… Sweetie… Woman… Ok, I'll stop now."

With a sniper rifle over each shoulder, Sarah pecked him on the lips and sassed back, "I don't remember. Grab the M203." Looking like a chastised little boy, Chuck grabbed the RPG launcher and flash bangs.

A few minutes later, Sarah clocked hostage they had taken and dumped his unconscious body along the side of the dirt road leading away from the compound. The rest of the hired help stood down, not wanting to incur the wrath of the Giant Blonde She Male and her mate.

* * *

"You seriously landed a stolen plane at an arms dealer's camp and drove off with their weapons? Did they just leave everything in a conspicuous black SUV downstairs?"

"Yes, but it's not that simple," Kate said, trying to temper the enthusiasm of her boyfriend.

"I had forgotten about how awesome they were on that security footage. We need to see if they will help with my father's plan."

"Castle, listen to me. They're reckless. They squabbled half the way to Paris. Sarah was mad that he infiltrated a Russian data center without her as backup. I guess they briefly owned the place and he played games over the Internet with someone there. She was even angrier that he showed up at the arms dealer's base. He was supposed to be watching you."

"Didn't she fly into the same base? It was ok for her, but not for him? Sounds like wife logic to me."

"He was mad at her for what she had done. He knew she had killed the Frenchman's hit squad in some mission several years ago, before the two of them had even met and thought this time she should have waited for him. They are both insanely protective. Then suddenly he shut it off, kissed her on the cheek, and offered to drive so she could sleep after her flight and before they execute their plan tonight."

"They have a plan too? My father's has blueprints and a way in."

"They have a real-time thermal image of the compound." Castle's eyes widened in hope. "I have a feeling they are going to do whatever they want anyway. I'm not sure we can stop their crazy plan."

"What are you not telling me, Kate?"

"This isn't just about Alexis for them. They have a vendetta going with Volkov, and not just him."

"Who else is involved?"

"The plane they stole… It belonged to Bracken."

Castle didn't know what to say. Bracken was always a touchy subject, but Kate and he were in a good place about it now. She trusted him. The first time he touched that case, snooping into the police files about her mother's murder, he almost lost her forever. That's even after he found a lead, and more importantly, before they were together. With Carmichael Industries and her dad in the mix, he didn't know what she would do.

She did something unexpected, she smiled at him, raising her hand to cup his face. "I'm ok, Castle. They're shadow boxing with him right now and have some friend in the DEA investigating his illegal money and drug pipeline."

"DEA?"

"I guess he's a drug kingpin. It doesn't matter right now. He's half a world away. All that matters right now is rescuing Alexis. Bracken is for another time."

Oh how he loved this woman! She gave him a forceful but quick kiss on the lips, bouncing back before he could engage, leaving him a little dazed. He recovered to see the steel wall of determination fall across her face.

Castle asked, "What do we do? Do we trust them? It's my daughter, and my father's here. Alexis is only in danger because of him. I'm not thinking straight. The man I hired in Paris to help find her sold me out."

"I heard. Chuck was monitoring you for a while before he picked us up."

"He left me? Again? Aren't they supposed to be working for us?"

"Sarah wasn't happy about that either, but he said something about even a long lost father could be trusted to save his son so of course Hunt would put Alexis's interests first. She conceded the point."

"Which means I need to go with my father's plan?"

"I don't know. Carmichael Industries always seems to have unexpected resources, so maybe it's better. Let's see what their plan is. If it doesn't so—"

They were interrupted with a bang of the stairwell door down the hall. Over the last few minutes, they had been their own little bubble, but they really weren't anyplace private. They were just standing in the hall. Instinctively, Beckett stepped between Castle and the potential threat, her hand at the gun in the back of her waistband.

A tall, older man shuffled around the corner, looking a little lost. When he spotted them, a flash of relief crossed his face. "Ah, maybe you could help me. Do you speak English?" He accent was English with that polite softness that fit the British stereotype. His clothing was less refined: jeans and a plaid button down shirt layered under a cardigan sweater, complete with elbow patches. He didn't look a threat.

Castle spoke up behind her, "Yes, we speak English."

"Oh, Americans. Wonderful! Maybe you could tell me if I'm the right place. I tried the floor below, but I forgot the first floor is the one above ground level in this country. I'm looking for room 201."

At the utterance of the room number of his father's apartment, Beckett pulled her weapon. The confused professor routine was an act. No one was supposed to know where they were. That was the room number of Jackson Hunt's safe house.

The new threat shot his hands straight in the air but continued to ramble, "Oh my! It looks like this is the right place, which must make you the parents. I'm looking for Chuck and Sarah Bartowski. I'm here to help."


	9. Deciding the Plan

_Posted 9 Feb 2019_

* * *

 _How was this man supposed to help? It had to be a ruse_. Beckett thought. Although, this man in the sweater did know the Carmichaels were really the Bartowskis, or the Bartowski-Walkers, or the Walker-Bartowskis. Or something like that.

"Stand down detective!" someone grunted. "Get your panties out of a bunch." Another tall, broader man edged around the corner hauling a large duffel over his shoulder. It was ex-Marine Colonel, ex-NSA Agent John Casey, the only member of Team Carmichael Industries from their last encounter they had yet to see. This man was solid backup for whatever plan they chose. How the older man fit in was less clear.

"Put your hands down, Hartley. The shooting doesn't start until later." He edged past him towards the door Beckett and Castle were blocking. "Well, are we just going to stand out here like a bunch of ninnies, or are we going to rescue the girl?"

Castle and Beckett led the way into the apartment.

Inside, everything was calm. Sarah was perched on a short chest of drawers separating the bedroom and the main room, his father was reviewing the blueprints, and Chuck was playing a game on his tablet. His tablet…

"Let me see my daughter."

It turned out Chuck wasn't playing a game. He was reviewing their satellite's live image. Castle didn't know what he was looking at, but there were a lot of red splotches. "Where is she—"

Chuck pointed to a longer streak. "I think she's stretched out on the floor, leaning against a cage."

Castle's father said, "Sure, gadgets are neat, but that doesn't save my granddaughter. Son, if you are done talking with Beckett, we need to review the plan a—" He pulled his gun and pointed at the doorway.

The British gentleman's arms were lifted straight skyward. John Casey, not to let a threat go unanswered, had his own sidearm out. Chuck almost dropped the tablet, rambling and waving his hands that everyone should calm down. Beckett didn't move, except to widen her eyes, drop her mouth, and edge her hand towards her gun in case it was needed. Sarah moved even less, still looking bored.

Hartley finally spoke, "Charles, a little help here."

Hunt turned his gun to Chuck, "You brought him here?"

"Let me explain."

"Explain? What possible explanation could there be for bringing Alexei Volkoff to my safehouse when we are about to raid Volkov's compound."

Before Chuck could answer, Sarah said, "Chuck, are you going to stop this man from pointing a gun at my husband or am I going to have to throw him through the window."

That was specific. She didn't say she'd just stop him. She said how. Falling from a throw out this floor could also be fatal.

Casey growled, "I suggest you listen to the lady. I have personal experience with that. My second longest experience in a hospital was from her throwing me through a window. I wouldn't recommend it."

Sarah stood up, pulling Hunt's attention and aim. Bad idea. Castle remembered the townhouse a couple years ago from the first time they met the spies. Chuck seemed to go cross-eyed for a second, twitched his head, and knocked Hunt's gun to the floor. The older man started to reach for a backup piece, when Casey, the only person with a weapon still drawn, said, "Don't even think about it. The wall behind you is red so there wouldn't even be much of a mess."

Hunt held his hands wide, and unhappily followed Casey's pistol wave to sit on the bed in that half of the studio apartment. That gave everyone the space to fully enter the room.

Hartley still had his hands in the straight in air. After an admonishing look from Casey, Hartley lowered his hands and joined the rest of them.

With tension levels just below the flashpoint, Chuck start his rambling explanation, "I'm sorry everyone, that was my fault. Agent Hunt. Can I call you Jackson? No. Ok. Agent Hunt it is. Agent Hunt, this is Hartley Winterbottom—"

"Talk about made up names," his father grumbled.

"That is his real name, well, I guess I should say that's the name his mother gave him, and you don't want to mess with her," Chuck said.

"Damn straight," Casey offered.

Hunt said, "It doesn't matter what his mother named him. He's Alexei Volkoff, the one person on the planet possibly more dangerous than Gregor Volkov."

Chuck waved his hands, as if pushing downward to calm everyone down. "No and no. See this is how it is. Alexei Volkoff doesn't exist anymore. My wife is far more dangerous than Volkoff every was, at least if you are a bad guy. Volkoff really wasn't that dangerous. I should know. I took him down."

"You. Yeah right. Rumor has it Orion did it."

"That happened a year after he was dead. Kind of amazing." Chuck sighed. "Do you really want to know? I have to explain a lot because you might guess half of it and incorrectly assume the other half, which would be dangerous."

"Yes, I want to know why you thought the professor here, this Volkoff look-alike, would help."

"Are you sure? I know you're an escaped rogue CIA agent, but that's just a cover. This is the secret that resulted in the three of us being hunted by the CIA."

"Just spit it out." Hunt didn't take that threat seriously or didn't care.

Sarah said to her husband, "Chuuuck..."

He tried to placate her, "It's ok. I know what's safe to say. Harley even has a different identity now. Most of this is history anyway. It's not useful to have false story circulating the intelligence community."

Beckett interrupted, "Wait, if this secret is so dangerous, maybe we should just trust you."

"I suppose it's not really that dangerous any more, after Casey's girlfriend took out Decker with a grenade over a year ago. Seventeen people know this particular information, so what is three more? Most of the people who know it no longer work for the government anyway. I still recommend you not share this with anyone outside of this room, not even with Alexis. Got it."

Beckett and Castle nodded while the skeptical elderly spy lifted his shoulders as if didn't care about the seriousness of the situation.

"About thirty-three years ago, Hartley and Orion were working on a computer training project. It was in its early stages but would later become the key part of the umbrella project for cross-agency threat analysis and opened the possibility of super agent training."

Hunt replied, "Yeah, all good agents know about this project. The Intersect project failed after Agent Larkin was killed. He was the only agent good enough to handle the information. Everyone else who tried the download went crazy or lost their memory."

Sarah jumped in, "Bryan Larkin never had the Intersect. He wasn't that good of an agent either." She was adamant.

"He saved my life once in Jakarta," Hunt pointed out.

"Jakarta, I remember that. That whole op was a disaster. His sloppiness is the reason I had to blow the building."

Hunt was surprised. "You're Mrs. Anderson."

"That was a stupid cover Bryce always insisted upon. If you were at Jakarta, then I saved your life too, so I kindly ask you to be quiet and let my real husband explain."

Castle realized something. "Not wanting to risk the wrath of a super spy, but Sarah, didn't you lose your memory a year ago?"

Chuck answered for her, "Yes, she downloaded a faulty version of the Intersect to rescue me. It worked for a while, but was removed. The version was faulty because the CIA did a poor job of reverse engineering the download device. They didn't have access to my father's full designs." Turning to Hunt, "Yes, my father was Orion." Hunt looked skeptical more than impressed.

"What does this Intersect do?" Castle asked.

"It doesn't matter. After my father was killed and I took down Volkoff, the chances of another successful Human Intersect were eliminated."

"Another?"

Chuck gave a crooked grin. "The CIA took it out before I resigned."

Hunt scoffed, "You were the Human Interest. Yeah right."

"Right. Now I'm the CEO of Carmichael Industries, and you know what we are going to do? We're going to save your granddaughter. Let me explain.

"In the initial research of the Intersect project, my father and Hartley discovered a way to input a personality profile into the brain. Hartley volunteered for a mission to infiltrate the Volkov crime family, which at the time was led by Yuri Volkov, Gregor's father. Unfortunately, something went wrong, and Hartley became Alexei Volkoff, the long lost British brother of Yuri, and he proceeded to take over the organization. The implanted personality would not fade away."

"So this man really is Alexei Volkoff." Castle's dad looked like he might take action, not that he would get far with so many spies in the way.

Chuck said, "After a fashion. The Intersect was removed a few years ago making him Hartley again. Shortly after, I broke him out of jail and set him up with a new identity."

"You let that murderous bastard go," Hunt stated.

Hartley jumped in, "I really don't remember anything that happened before then. Well, much of anything. Charles is the only one who survived the process unscathed. I've reasoned it was a genetic thing. His neural pathways most matched those of the primary designer, who did a lot of self-experimentation."

Chuck clarified, "It was a little more complicated than that, but as I said before, that doesn't matter. What matters is Hartley can help with the plan."

"What is your plan?" Beckett asked.

"Hartley walks in the front door with Sarah and me as armed bodyguard. We all walk out with Alexis."

Everyone was quiet. Team Carmichael looked like that was a reasonable plan. Castle and Beckett were waiting for the for the rest of it. Hunt was filled with disbelief.

Hartley finally broke the quiet with some gentle concern. "Charles, I want to help somehow. A young woman's life hangs on the balance. How could I refuse? But I'm not sure how I can help this way. I don't even remember this Gregor Volkov."

"It will be just like when we safely walked in and out of Volkoff Industries after your personality had been restored, but this time Sarah will be with us. Casey, and I assume Hunt, will be on overwatch. Sarah managed to negotiate some serious firepower from Gregor's local competition that they can use."

"I supposed I could try. It did work last time."

Hunt couldn't keep quiet any longer, "How are you supposed to get them to release Alexis? By just walking in? I don't think so."

"This is ALEXEI WOLKOV," Chuck finished with a gruff, fake German accent. Or was it supposed to be Russian? "They are all scared of him."

"Gregor hates me more," Hunt argued. "I killed his wife. I was trying to get Gregor, but caught his wife instead. She was part of his organization, though."

"On whose orders?" Chuck said in a way that suggested he knew the answer. He always seemed to know the answer.

"I was on loan to MI-6."

"Was your contact Frost or Tuttle?"

"Rime. Tuttle was her superior."

Sarah let out an abrupt laugh. "Rime means frost."

Chuck explained, "Gregory Tuttle was Volkoff's MI-6 alias. _Hartley's_ alias. Yes, his false personality had an alias. Frost was my mom's alias when she went undercover to take down Volkoff's network and rescue Hartley."

Hunt didn't believe it. "Your mother was a spy too? I've heard enough fiction."

It was hard to contradict his father, but when faced with the truth, Castle said, "Um, we met her, last year. Not in person, but on a video conference. She took out Sophia and her organization. You said you greased some wheels at the CIA. How could you send me to her? She was a traitor." Castle turned to Chuck. "Last year, didn't you say she was working for, well, him?" He thumbed to Hartley, who was looking uncomfortable with the entire situation.

"Yes, Sophia worked for Volkoff. The Volkoff personality was pulling those kinds of strings for a long time. When he was removed from the picture, Sophia went off on her own, going after the Linchpin."

"I'm so sorry I caused all of this trouble," Hartley said. "I'd like to make amends. The least I can do is help. Charles, what is your plan? How am I supposed to get you inside?"

"Well—"

Hunt was still not buying it. "There's no way they are going to believe that man is Alexei Volkoff. Just the name inspired fear in his adversaries and his organization. That man doesn't inspire fear. He even has elbow patches."

"Then, what's your plan, Hunt?" Casey asked.

He explained it. No one reacted. After a beat, Chuck pulled out his tablet, attaching a tiny, jointed cylinder to the port on the side. It projected an image of the room that held Alexis and its surrounding area on to the ceiling.

Chuck said, "Our team is a big fan of the magnet which the beginning of your plan sounded like. It isn't the magnet, though. If would be if you snuck in to rescue everyone after your son was being captured, with him serving as a distraction. Instead, this plan is sacrificing him, hoping he isn't in the blast radius when your radio blows up, and then letting him fight through three dozen men trying to escape. The magnet isn't supposed to have to fight for freedom."

Hunt said, "A few will be taken out from the blast. I was going to draw the rest to the front with an attack. There are only supposed to be a dozen people there. Richard would have to hurry past one or two... three at most."

Chuck said, "The explosion would draw some to the room where it happened to see what happened, the opposite of the magnet, but there's a lot more than a dozen now. I don't think even an adrenaline filled father can take out twenty, but Carmichael Industries can do that easily."

Hunt skeptically said, "The two of you. Right. I thought you said you don't have the Intersect. Even if you did, you're not taking out twenty."

"Sarah doesn't need the Intersect unless she is out of ammo and most of the time not even then. She's that good. If she had the Intersect, she could go in by herself. I trained with Sarah and Casey for years, so I can handle myself. I have this thing where I swing Sarah around and she hits everyone. It's kinda fun."

Harley tried to helpfully add, "And you broke into my headquarters and took about twenty by yourself."

Chuck corrected, "That was over two years ago. I was temporarily out of the CIA and out of spy shape, but I had the 2.0 as help. I was just saying the two of us can do it, because we have, even without Intersect help."

"Three," Beckett said. She just picked sides. Team Carmichael seemed to know what they were doing and was going, whatever plan was picked. More importantly, their plan didn't rely on Castle smuggling in a bomb.

"Detective, you don't want to be in the middle of what happens," Hunt said.

"Someone needs to rescue Alexis while everyone else is talking out the guards," she reasoned.

"Kate—"

"Rick, I got this. I know Russian, I can go in with them."

Sarah said, "They'll probably speak English. Alexei Volkoff always insisted on it. It was one of his quirks."

"Thank goodness. I don't know Russian anymore," Hartley said.

"Wait. Aren't you Volkoff?" Castle asked.

"I forgot it when the Intersect was removed."

Hunt still wasn't convinced of the plan. "He's going to be useless."

"He can do this," Chuck said. "He's done it before. Beckett, your first job will to be get Alexis out of her cage. Then lay low with her and Hartley while Sarah and I take everyone out."

"It's still too many people," Hunt said.

"Maybe Casey can shoot a couple people." Chuck nonchalantly shrugged and Casey perked up.

"He'll be outside," Hunt argued.

Casey grunted as if to say that wasn't a factor. The walls didn't seem to matter to him.

"Why did they increase security?" Castle asked.

"They must be reacting to the French and Interpol raid of the arms dealer compound at which the ladies landed," Chuck reasoned. "I was always going to report them. If I hadn't it would have been a waste of the reward money because Sarah blew the airplane twenty minutes after we left. The smoke would have led the authorities there anyway. Carmichael Industries doesn't let arms dealers escape justice when we can easily stop it.

"It does mean we won't get support from Interpol on tonight's mission, but they can't be around Hartley anyway. _We_ can handle the increased security. Detective, you rescue Alexis and take cover with Hartley. The rest of us from Carmichael Industries will do the rest."


	10. The Imperial March

_Posted 10 Feb 2019_

* * *

"What are they doing?" Beckett asked the female spy in the seat next to her.

The guys were in the back of the SUV. Some of the guys. Castle, his father, and Casey had left in another vehicle for their various assignments. This SUV included the rescue team, Sarah, Chuck, Hartley/Volkoff, and herself. Chuck and Hartley were in the back.

Beckett still wasn't sure about this plan, but she was much happier going into the lion's den with a team instead of having Castle in there by himself, with no backup. Jackson Hunt's plan was crazy. She wondered how a father could risk his son like that. Castle's experience with bombs consisted of ripping out all of the wires and getting lucky.

While this plan might be more likely to work, with Chuck singing and Hartley melting down, this plan just might be crazier for completely different reasons.

"I think it's from…" Sarah hesitated, "Star… Wars."

"Yes, it's _The Imperial March_ from _The Empire Strikes Back_ , the second one, or episode five if you want to count that way." That wasn't Beckett's question. The singing wasn't _that_ out of tune, but the music itself was unexpected.

"That's _Star Wars_ , right? Not _Star Trek_?"

"Yes." Beckett wondered how this woman be married to such an obvious nerd as Chuck but not know _The Empire Strikes Back_?

"Good. I was thinking Indiana Jones for a second."

"That a series and a character, not a movie. John Williams did both scores."

"He did? Huh. He didn't do Star Trek too, did he? Because that didn't sound the same as the others."

"No, a bunch of different composers did the Star Trek movies." Time to get back on course. "What are those two doing?"

"Getting into character. Chuck and Morgan did it once. It helped Morgan a lot on a mission in which he played an Italian arms dealer. He had to start thinking evil so he could act evil."

"Chuck sings like this before rescue operations?"

"Oh no. Chuck does this growling thing when he pretends to be evil. Or he drinks cheap chardonnay when he's hacking. This routine is for Hartley."

Chuck stopped singing as Hartley broke in, "This isn't working Charles. I had nightmares about Darth Vader for three weeks after seeing that movie."

"Have you seen _Jedi_ yet?"

"No, what's that?"

"It's the third in the trilogy."

"They made another one. The horror!"

"Actually, Lucas went the cute route with Ewoks. They're like these adorable walking teddy bears that are really good at guerrilla tactics."

"Sounds terrifying."

"No, no, no. They're good guys." Chuck sighed. "The music isn't working. We need to try something else."

Everyone was quiet as Beckett wondered if it was too late to get back to Hunt's plan. Maybe it could work if she went in with Castle, not that she knew much about bombs.

She quietly asked Sarah, so the guys couldn't here, "Does Chuck still have the Intersect?"

Sarah evenly responded, "The Intersect was removed from Chuck twice: once by his mom and once by a rogue member of the CIA who is now dead." Kate noted that wasn't exactly an answer to her question.

In the back, "I know!" Chuck growled a bit and cleared his throat. His next words came out grainy. "My name is Alexei Volkoff."

"What? I thought I was Alexei Volkoff."

"You were. Repeat after me. My name is Alexei Volkoff."

Hartley tried—very poorly. It came out kind of weak.

"With more gusto. My name is Alexei Volkoff," Chuck gruffly said.

Hartley tried again with marginally more enthusiasm, but it still was on the pathetic end of the spectrum.

"Do it from your throat. My name is Alexei Volkoff."

Hartley started three times, trying to get the throat sound right. The last try sounded like he had a cold, which was still better than the previous attempts.

"Put more hostility into it. My name is Alexei Volkoff."

Hartley fell back into his genteel English accent. "Charles, I don't think repeating that name is doing anything."

"When you were Volkoff, you were the world's most evil weapons dealer. You were a villain, sir. Your name struck fear in the hearts of even the toughest of swine. And that name was… Alexei Volkoff. You say it like you mean it! I'm quoting here. 'My name… is… Alexei Volkoff. World's biggest bad-ass. Killer of men, conqueror of nations!'"

"I know, I know. You told me I was a mean, dictatorial, conniving, manipulative, amoral, limey with relatively good teeth. I was a monster." He didn't sound like a monster.

"Let's do it together. My name is Alexei Volkoff." Hartley joined in. "My name is Alexei Volkoff. My name is Alexei Volkoff."

"Maybe you should be be Volkoff," Hartley suggested.

"It won't work. They'd never buy it. I don't look like him. You look like him. You _were_ him. You just need to channel your inner anger. What makes you angry?"

"My daughter Vivian's boyfriends. She's become kind of… how do I put this delicately… promiscuous. She has two regulars and a rotating door for other random men she picks up. I have to put in _Lawrence of Arabia_ on the tele. The sweeping music drowns out their noise. I really should get my own place, but I missed so much of her life I feel I shouldn't leave her alone no matter how much she resents me. She became evil even without the Intersect, because she fell in with the wrong crowd. What kind of father would I be if I didn't keep an eye out for her?"

Ok, that was too much information for Beckett, but _Lawrence of Arabia_? Really?

Sarah whispered, "Trust me, you don't want to know." Kate must have expressed her horror out loud. "It's one of those things I was happy I forgot, until now."

Not hearing the front seat commentary Chuck said, "Imagine you are going to see one of Vivian's regulars."

Hartley growled. For a moment, Beckett wondered if Casey was in the car.

"That's good. Now hold on to that feeling. You are going to stop him from… from…"

"Vi-o-lat-ing my daughter."

"That's it. Hold on to that. Now add a Russian accent. Yes, I know you don't have a Russian accent. Neither did Volkoff. That's why he Anglicized the name. Just make your best attempt at a fake Russian accent, and speak from that angry place, using your throat."

"My Name Is A-LEX-EI WOL-KOFFFF."

Even the soft hum of the SUV engine seemed distant after that introduction. With the chill still running down her spine, Beckett realized this plan might actually work.

In his normal voice, Hartley said, "How was that, Charles? I think I might have frightened myself a wee bit with that one."

Then again, maybe not.

* * *

A/N: Unlike "Chuck & Sarah vs Their Next Adventure," this story does not have songs for each chapter. This chapter has a song. The song is obvious.


	11. Volkoff vs Volkov

Posted _11 Feb 2019_

* * *

The longer the situation went on, the less sense Alexis Castle could make of it. She'd seen _Taken_. That was her greatest fear, being sold into a human trafficking network. They hadn't drugged her, though, even after her failed escape attempt. At this point she didn't think something like that auction was her captors' plan.

She knew her dad. Her disappearance would lead to some rash actions with him trying to be Liam Neeson. That would get him killed. Hopefully, Beckett could keep him in line. That was if they even knew where she was.

Paris.

She hadn't been here since her mom, Meredith, took her out of school for a lunch date, which turned out to be a meeting with one of a potential directors. Alexis was nine at the time. Even her dad, who had his own loose definition of proper parental behavior, was furious. Alexis wasn't too happy either. She missed the local spelling bee finals. Times like that made her so glad her dad got full custody. Ever since then, the idea of visiting Paris seemed like something to do when you don't care about anyone else. The city might be great, but it had been conspicuously missing from her post-graduation, European itinerary.

Her dad's antics were always individually self-destructive, never affecting her. She could give him a pass because he was _there_. Sometimes the Page Six stuff was a little embarrassing, but never as bad as the top ten eligible bachelor list. It's not like he could help it if her teachers (and a few classmates) had a crush on him. The bad boy image—she understood it helped sell more books that paid for her prep school education—it wasn't who he really was. He was the fun dad who gave her opportunities and loved her enough to stay. He had been the adult, while she acted like one. At least his current police activity was of the more lawful variety, a sign he had grown. It actually made her proud, when it wasn't scaring her to death.

She said a quick prayer that Detective Beckett would keep him out of trouble this time.

Back to her current predicament.

Growing up the daughter of a mystery writer prepared her for this scenario as much as anyone who didn't have martial arts training. Give her a foil and a single opponent, and she'd have half a chance. She doubted she'd be going one-on-one, fencing-style, anytime soon, though. Her dad's books did give her plenty of ideas for escape. Picking a lock, breaking zip ties, distracting a guard—she learned it all from her dad's stories of Derrick Storm and Clara Strike. Some might say that was fiction, but her dad always tested the craziest theories. Everything in his books was possible.

The problem was her previous failed attempt made her captors more vigilant. Other than two bathroom breaks in a room with no windows and a tiny fan vent, she hadn't been out of sight since she saw the Eiffel Tower from the roof. That was a different building. She and her co-captive, Sara, had some privacy there. Now she was standing in a cage in the middle of a large, opulent room. The cage door had a number pad. From when she was let out before, she knew the first number was a two and the last was a four or a seven. She wasn't sure about the four in between, but she thought the second and third were the same number. It didn't matter because she couldn't reach the pad through the one inch grid of the thin horizontal and vertical bars.

The cage was in a large, tall room in the house with a smaller, but full-sized room next to it, through decorative arches. Her larger room had openings on two sides with walls or shuttered windows on the other two. One open side had two interior doors, only one of which was open. A staircase was in the area next to the adjacent room.

Alexis hadn't seen Sara again. For a while, she hoped her college friend had escaped and found help, but a few hours ago she heard a couple guards talking about their cut of the ransom and hoping the new people hired weren't going to be cutting into their shares.

That meant she was a hostage, which was better than many other possibilities. It still didn't make sense, though. Several of her dad's books included hostage trades. They were always risky for both sides. with the whole situation becoming a game of cat and mouse. Why would someone do that twice? Her dad had enough liquid assets to put up money fast enough. Ransoming her separately was asking to get caught.

The large number of guards also was confusing. Sure, she tried to escape, but recently she had counted at least twenty people in this room and in the next. _What kind of ransom could pay for the small army guarding her?_ Maybe they were there for other illegal operations, but even so, many of the men were new. The number had doubled in the past couple hours. They were expecting something.

If she were in New York, she'd think they were holed up against an NYPD assault. Her dad had some contacts in Paris from book research, but nothing which would warrant this kind of defense. Her captors could have avoided all of this if they just ransomed her with Sara.

The one good thing about the extra guards was they were all speaking English now. The original ones were speaking in Russian most of the time, except when ordering her around. Only a couple of them had spoken Arabic, but Alexis hasn't seen them since her escape attempt. The new ones were mostly French, probably locals, so they had all fallen back on English as a common language.

They also didn't all work well together. Alexis had noticed some dissension, except when the boss was around. He put fear into everyone, her most of all. Whenever he looked at her, she could tell he wanted her dead, but something was holding him back. He was waiting for something. Alexis hoped that whenever that thing happened, she'd be freed. They'd probably move her. If it didn't look good, she'd have to take her chances before twenty or thirty more guards might show up.

What was her move? If she got one of them alone, she could knee him in the groin. She might have to flirt a little to get him close enough. She didn't have a 'move' for more than one. She wished she had worked up the nerve to ask Beckett about self-defense classes, although group defense would more advanced and still wouldn't cover a situation like this. Her dad has suggested some kind of training once, but at the time she just thought he was being over-protective about college boys. In her mind, that's what pepper spray and a knee to groin were for. She wasn't expecting Russian mobsters and French mercenaries.

Her dad always told her the mobsters he knew for research purposes liked him. Maybe this was a rival organization. There was that night she went home to do some laundry and found him and Beckett role playing…eww. The explanation afterwards including something about Russian mobsters and a poker game in Chinatown a couple years before, and was filled with apologizing. Somehow it was Alexis's idea—the apologizing, not the role playing. She had tried to scrub that evening from her brain. Frankly, she'd be happy if they would get married and stopped having sex. Married people stopped having sex, right?

Anyway, maybe this guy was that Russian mobster's brother or something. But how was Chinatown poker connected to Paris? If this was a vendetta, no ransom was coming.

She definitely needed a plan. And she needed to stop spiraling. That meant going back to collecting intel. She laced her fingers through the cage and resumed her watch.

In the next room, a new man, holding some kind of machine gun, walked up to the boss. He must have been guarding somewhere else. That made twenty-one.

"What!?" the boss exclaimed.

"I said Alexei Volkoff is here," the thug repeated.

"I know what you said. How can he be here? He's supposed to be at a CIA black site."

"They say he escaped, like you did."

"They always leak about an escape, to try to control the power vacuum."

"There were those rumors from Africa that he had escaped."

"That was years ago. He hasn't been seen since his daughter disappeared a month later. That was probably a ruse to get control of the Norseman and take out the competition. You want to know how I know that he's not here? Because of the havoc that witch Frost has been wreaking on my organization. With him gone, she's trying to take over, but each step of the way, the CIA is swooping in and shutting down my operations. This is all the result of the incompetence of Alexei Volkoff's woman. He wasn't even a real Volkov."

"But sir, he's at the front door, and he insists on speaking with you."

"I tell you it's not him. Kill him." The boss flicked his hand, trying for dismissal.

"He has three guards."

"Alexei Volkoff didn't need guards."

"Ivan says it's really him. He worked on his personal security detail a couple times."

"Kill Ivan too."

"His brother…"

"I know, I know. His brother is our accountant. I can't kill him. Fine. Send Ivan and… Petr, and the other Ivan—"

"Which one?"

"The skinny one. Send then down to the tunnels. Make sure they don't talk to anyone about our guest. Then bring our guest to me."

"What about his guards?"

"How many?"

"Three. A man and two women. Ivan said he recognized one of the women."

"Really?"

"She was at Volkoff's headquarters a couple years ago too."

"Frost must be on the outs if he's gallivanting with other women. She probably screwed up one too many times." The man shook his head to reset his musings. "They can come too, but make sure we have six more men in this area. I don't want this so-called Alexei pulling anything while I have this operation going on. We need need to settle whatever this distraction is quickly."

 _Interesting_ , Alexis thought. Some kind of rival had shown up unexpectedly. One named Volkoff, while her jailer was Volkov. The man clearly made a point of differentiating the pronunciation. The extra men must be because of this ongoing operation. It couldn't be because of her failed escape. That wouldn't warrant so many extra people. Her situation must be on hold until the operation completed. Then maybe she would be ransomed like Sara was. It seemed like she just needed to stay low and stay out of the way of whatever required more bad guy firepower.

Alexei Volkoff. Why did that name sound familiar to Alexis? After a moment, she had it. She saw him on one of those FBI most wanted posters one time when she stopped to see her dad at the precinct. He was number two, and that's when Bin Laden was number one. He was there? Or some imposter claiming to be Volkoff was there. She _really_ needed to keep her head down!

A minute later, the man came back with a large armed contingent. Several spread out around the adjacent room. A couple looked familiar, but several were new. She lost track of the number of different people she had seen, but it had to be close to twenty-five now. The four visitors were in the middle. All of them extremely tall. The two men were taller than her dad. One was older, wearing a black suit with some sheen. The other was maybe early thirties with short curly hair, wearing a dark trench coat. One woman was blocked from view, but she had long brown hair. The other, a blonde with shoulder length hair, was in head-to-toe black. Her boots were something else. They had to have seven inch heels with platforms. With those shoes, she was as tall as the men.

"My name is Alexei Volkoff," said the older man.

"Yes, I know who you are," Volkov responded.

The younger man failed to hold in a laugh, getting a curious look from her captor and the older man and a glare from the blonde.

"Sorry, it's from Doctor… that's not important." He caught the look from the blonde, but couldn't stop himself from adding, "I'll be quiet now."

Volkov spoke, "Alexei, is this man mocking me? Who is this guy? Your help used to remain quiet."

Alexis noted that her jailer seemed to accept him as Alexei Volkoff.

The tall, joking man was turning colors as he bit his lip to stay quiet and not laugh some more. _Oh, Doctor Who is the guy. Ok, that was a little funny_ , not that Alexis was in a laughing mood. What good was the distraction of these visitors if she was stuck in a cage?

"Pardon, my friend Charles." Alexei Volkoff sounded British. "He's still new to the henchman role. He normally runs his own little business with his wife, Sarah, here," Volkoff said, indicating the blonde, "but I needed some support on short notice so he's here under orders from his mother."

Ok, that explained the glare. Alexis recognized it from the looks Gina gave her dad when Alexis and he played laser tag in the loft. The tall blonde was married to the giggler and her glare was her attempt at telling her husband to behave.

"I don't care. Keep him in line and teach him to show some respect. Didn't you learn that from your mother?"

Volkoff warned casually, "Take care before disparaging his mother. Very few live past the remark."

"Threatening me with a henchman's mother? That's not your style, Alexei, or whoever you are."

Charles risked opening his mouth again, "It was always his style, Gregor. Didn't you meet my mother before your incarceration? I call her mom, but you probably called her Frost."

This didn't go over well. Volkov started to pull his gun from his back waistband, but with his hand still caught in his sport coat, Sarah already had a weapon pointed at Volkov's head. Surprisingly, none of the other dozen or so in the two rooms moved to protect their boss. She was too fast. A few looked uncertain or surprised. The older, more experienced ones didn't flinch. Alexis thought this type of thing must happen a lot when crime lords meet. A lot of threats with weapons being brandished.

Gregor withdrew his hand, sans gun, and held it wide. "I see why you wanted her as backup, Alexei. She's faster than her mother-in-law, but next time leave the talky one at home. The wife can put her gun down."

Sarah didn't move. No one moved. Alexei didn't look like he had any say in what she did. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, Chuck squeezed out through a forced smile, "I'm ok, sweetie." She lowered her gun, but she did not put it away.

"Put a leash on your b—" Chuck cut Gregor off with a throat clearing. "What?" he barked at the guy who didn't know when to shut up.

"I would recommend not saying something like that about the woman who almost made a mess of your hardwood floors. If you think Alexei Volkoff is going try to stop her, you obviously don't remember what he did to people who insulted Frost and by extension, her family."

To Volkoff, Volkov said, "Is Frost running your organization now? From the cleansing after your capture and the failures of your daughter and your lawyer, most of the Volkov assets have disappeared. Your precious Frost's mismanagement is practically handing over the remains of Hydra to the CIA. You come in here as the great Alexei Volkoff, but that was the past. I'm in charge now."

With all of the threatening, Alexei's companions had shuffled. Alexis finally saw the fourth person in the group, and she was looking directly at her. Their eyes met for an instant before the woman immediately looked away, scanning the room around Alexis.

It was Beckett.

Kate Beckett had somehow infiltrated this new Russian mafia contingent.

To rescue her.

That woman was amazing. Maybe she _did_ deserve her dad. Maybe she was _more_ amazing than even he was.

Alexis still had no idea how they would get out of there.

Gregor Volkov was still droning on about the demise of Volkoff Industries—something about how it never would have happened if the illegitimate son of his father hadn't taken over thirty years ago. He complained that the Volkov name should never have been Anglicized. It diverted his attention, but that didn't get Alexis out of the cage. Her dad liked to brag about how badass Beckett was, but no amount of badassery could get by the small army in the room.

That Sarah seemed tough., too, and maybe her husband could do something besides talk too much. Maybe he could unlock the cage with a Doctor Who-style sonic screwdriver, but there were still too many guards with big guns. Maybe a trade. But why would this Alexei Volkoff trade for her? He might have mobster friends, but her dad never mentioned the FBI's most-wanted owing him a favor. Alexis couldn't shut off her brain.

Volkov asked, "Other than unwisely announcing that you are still alive, why are you here? Do you need me to deal with Frost or the mess in her wake? Or perhaps you need someone to put a bullet in your brain, which I'd normally be happy to provide assistance? As you can see I have an operation in progress, and you need to get to your purpose before I have my men escort you out. We could arrange a meeting next week at the house in Antwerp."

"This operation. That's why I'm here," Volkoff said.

"It has nothing to do with you. It's about my wife."

"Gregor, Gregor, Gregor," Alexei shook his head. "I'm mostly retired now, but you are still carrying on the Volkoff family legacy."

"It's VolkoV, and it's not your legacy."

"Considering how much of the company I built, I believe I had the name right. What are you doing with it? Kidnapping beautiful, innocent young women. Volkoff Industries always stayed out of the human trafficking business. When I heard about it, I came straight here. Breaking up families is not what we were about."

"Her family is not so innocent."

"Ah, the sins of the father's father. But that's not her fault. She was wearing pigtails when that happened. Katherine, dear, please see to the young lady."

Beckett started in Alexis's direction. Gregor began to say something, likely to stop her, but Charles cleared his throat again and Sarah raised her gun eye-level. Alexei continued, "Ms Beckett's just going to see to her condition, one woman to another."

Gregor shrugged. "Why not? The girl's not going anywhere. She already failed to escape once. She is only getting out of here if her grandfather doesn't. Even then, I don't care."

 _Wait, did Gregor say grandfather?_ She only had one, that she knew about, and he died a few years ago. Beckett never stopped walking and was almost there. It was too much to process at once.

Another guard started to the cage, but Beckett stared him down. That was a little impressive. She reached the cage and leaned in close to whisper, "Hi, Alexis. Are you ok to move?"

Move? Were they going somewhere? How was she supposed to get out of the cage?"

"Alexis?" Beckett touched her fingers through the cage.

Right. Answer. Alexis found her voice, "I'm ok. What is going on?"

"Later. You won't be able to hear in a minute. Take these."

Gregor Volkov was still droning on in the adjacent room. Alexis looked at Beckett's hand and saw… What were those… Earplugs?

"Alexis!" Beckett whispered, "You need to focus. Put them in."

Beckett's tall frame shielded the hand-off. They weren't normal ear plugs. They were basically tiny cushions wrapped around something metal. Alexis looked up to ask and saw Beckett mouth, _Hurry_. Alexis did as she was instructed.

"—have the them in yet?" came a voice through one earpiece. That was her dad!

"Be quiet!" responded a gruff voice through the earplugs. "She can't respond without giving it away. You need to stay off the line while I feed Hartley the cue."

Who was Hartley?

Beckett was looking at the security pad. Alexis risked a whisper, "The code is six digits, 2, then a repeat, ending in a 4 or 7."

Her dad's voice jumped in again. "That was Alexis! Hey pumpkin, you're going—"

"Shut up, numbnuts! Two strikes gets you muted," the gruff voice said. His sports rules were different. "Chuck was right. Beckett, the code is ANNA67. Punch it in now."

Beckett did as the angry man ordered, and the door unlocked.

"Hey, what are you doing there?" one of the nearby guards, who had taken an interest in Beckett by the cage, asked. "Back away."

In the earpiece, the gruff voice said, "Everyone get ready. Alexis, Beckett, and Hartley, close your eyes."

Close her eyes? She suddenly couldn't hear. What was happening? She looked over over to the connected room, just in time to see Chuck's coat open with a flourish as he started to spin. Several canisters flew out in all directions.

Flash bangs!

Before Alexis could process, Beckett pulled her from the cell and pressed her face against the woman's shoulder. Alexis heard many small pops. A few seconds later, she felt herself being pulled across the room by the arm, another hand pressing against the back of her head. She heard several other pops as she also tripped on the guard on the floor. He was screaming, not that Alexis could hear it.

Alexis found herself against the wall, behind some kind of ornate couch. Beckett pulled Alexis's legs in further. When the younger woman realized what she wanted, Alexis bent her knees for better cover. Beckett put her hand on Alexis's cheek and pulled her face to face, making sure the surprise was gone. Alexis nodded that she was ok. With that, Beckett pulled her gun and peeked around the edge of their cover.

Alexis had always imagined Detective Beckett was a badass in situations like this. Sure, the character Nikki Heat was fictional, and her dad embellished the true stories, but it was fun to think of the real life model as a bit of a superhero. Here she was, coming to her rescue on the other side of the world in Paris. At this moment, though, the detective did not engage. She lowered her weapon in perfect synchronicity with the lowering of her mouth. She looked as surprised as Alexis felt.

Alexis decided to risk looking around her edge, and she was rewarded with the reason for Beckett's shock. Chuck was spinning in a circle holding Sarah suspended in the air, only holding her forearms. Sarah kicked at least three people, adding to the other half dozen on the ground. Some around the room were crying out in pain, holding their ears or eyes, still recovering from the flash bangs.

Chuck tossed Sarah through the air from the other room towards Alexis's room. Sarah landed on her feet but transitioned the landing into a cartwheel followed by a handspring. She stopped just short of one of the recovering men. With her back to him, he started to get up. A tranquilizer dart shot from the other room and just past Sarah's head to take the man out. Alexis looked to the source, but the likely candidate, Chuck, was already finishing off two opponents hand-to-hand.

"Who are these guys?" Alexis asked he dad's girlfriend.

She answered, "They're on our side. Or maybe we're on their side." A couple more bad guys fell to the ground under Sarah's fists. "They're friends," Beckett finished.

The British man from the group had backed away to the closest wall, out of the way.

Sarah hurried over to Beckett and Alexis as Chuck escorted Alexei to the stairs. Sarah got them up and helped them navigate the incapacitated men spread throughout the room. It looked like no one was dead, but they were out of commission.

Up the stairs, they navigated through one of the doors to a large room that looked like a household library or study. Sarah closed and locked the door behind them.

"What is going on?" Alexis asked. He sounded meeker than before, more genteel.

Chuck explained in a rush, "Hi, Alexis. We're glad you are ok. I'm Chuck. That's my lovely wife Sarah. We're ex-CIA and run a private security company, friends of Detective Beckett and your dad. This is Hartley Winterbottom. He was brainwashed to be Alexei Volkoff, the world's most dangerous arms dealer. He's better now. Before that diversion, he was my dad's best friend. We're here to rescue you."

That barely explained anything, but in combination with what she had heard, it made a little more sense. It was logical, in a crazy world. At least they were the good guys and were trying to get her out of here.

Suddenly there were a couple of explosions and gunfire, coming from outside the house. The building shook. It seemed like the incoming fire was coming from multiple sides.

"That would be our partner Casey and your grandfather. Casey's ex-NSA, and he's a partially retired spy. Your grandfather is a retired spy too. They are providing an external attack as a distraction."

She had a known grandfather? And he was a spy? It made even less sense to her.

Chuck was over at a desk, using a computer he had found there.

"This building was used by the resistance during World War II. Second bookshelf from the left, third shelf from the bottom. _Le Comte de Monte Cristo_. It's in French, of course."

Sarah went straight to the shelf and pulled the book. The next shelf moved, revealing a gap. Asking for a hand, she worked with Harley to pull the shelf to the side, revealing a closed dumbwaiter door.

"I'll take point," she said. "Chuck, honey, don't get lost in their network." She opened the door and disappeared down.

Chuck then said, "Alexis, you're next. Then you detective. Then Hartley. I've got the rear. There's only a hole two stories down to the basement. No elevator. So be careful."


	12. First we win - Then we eat

_Posted 12 Feb 2019 (Not April 15th)_

* * *

"Hey Babe. Could you please pass the rolls?" Rick handed the basket to Kate with a smile.

Kate could barely believe it, and she had even lived it. She was at an expensive French restaurant, eating a nice dinner, as if nothing life shattering had happened about an hour ago. Actually, over the last few days.

Everyone was safe.

Technically, Alexis had been closer to the roll basket, but she wasn't equipped to help. She was too preoccupied, getting dinner bites while strongly holding on to, practically hanging on, her dad and staring and smiling at Kate. The normally mature, self-confident woman was not yet ready to let go and return to normal.

Kate's life was tragically turned upside down when she was about the same age as Alexis. This circumstance was less catastrophic but somehow bigger, with the take down of two arms organizations and the emergence of a missing grandfather. The highlight was her safe rescue in the City of Lights, on the other side of the world.

Kate was content with her connection to her man. His hand remained extended on the table, reaching in her direction. She grabbed it often, and he always squeezed three times.

New York had top shelf cuisine from all over the world. Dating Castle, the best was regularly made available to her, even though home cooking, NYC food carts, and her favorite delivery places provided meals that were always welcomed. It didn't hurt knowing Maddie, her high school best friend turned restaurateur. They were in Paris, though. Even regular places were good. Kate only _imagined_ about the place they were having a meal.

After their escape, they were given a reservation when Casey made a call and was paid back by one of his old service teammates for some past favor. Sarah talked to the restaurant manager and handed off to Chuck who explained they had just come from a WW II-era home (that Alexis had been in) that they effectively liberated. The large home was something used by the Germans and was infiltrated by the French Resistance, making it a key tap on an information pipeline and in the manager's mind, a historic landmark. Casey meanwhile called his girlfriend, who sent over a half dozen men from her company who helped get the restaurant cleared out, something the manager and owner had insisted upon. The existing patrons were politely compensated with meals at other fine local establishments.

A few of the men remained, providing an external security presence that Carmichael Industries said was not necessary but was still appreciated. No would disrupt their dinner.

The food… Ok, Kate had not had a decent meal since before this situation started, but the multi-course meal was top notch by any standard. The place had to have been given a lot of stars by reviewers. Chuck had expressed some concern about the recent quality of wine production due to yearly weather conditions in France, to which Sarah snorted and said he wouldn't recognize the difference for anything that didn't come in a box anyway. Castle's experience came to the rescue, and his selection was incredibly good.

As Kate enjoyed more of her third course, she reflected more on how they got here.

First, they all escaped through the dumb waiter. Sarah took point. Alexis was next. Kate provided a secure center. Hartley followed, and Chuck took the rear. Castle was waiting for them in a room connected to the tunnels, from his dad's original plan. The room existed, apparently, for food delivery.

Their biggest delay from that point was Alexis. She wouldn't let go of Castle and Kate so they could start moving.

Back on the surface, outside and a couple blocks away, they looked back to the ornate building that had been Alexis's prison. It was at a huge center of lights and sirens. Apparently, Casey or Hunt or both had made use of the RPG launchers. The building was in flames. Fire response was trying to control the situation. Other cars were from, what she later found out, Interpol. DGSE had apparently brought in reinforcements quickly. Several ambulances went by, likely with unconscious mercenaries. All had escort from regional authorities that could provide tactical reinforcement, if needed. A few other cars drove by with people locked up in the back seats. Kate recognized one captive, through a window, as one of the mercenaries they had take out to rescue Alexis. It looked like everyone Volkov had brought in to help him was being arrested.

Their observation of the law enforcement response chaos was stopped when Casey joined them, carrying disassembled weapons in cases. He simply said, "We're done here. Lets get dinner."

Apparently that was what the ex-spies did after an operation. They sat around a table and ate.

Sarah mumbled something about dinner being a wiser idea than another train across Europe, _for now_ , but they were getting on one later. Chuck said he needed to take apart his dad's watch and look for trackers that Casey might have added because he had found them so quickly.

Casey called in the favor.

Alexis thought of calling Grams, but first Chuck gave her a number and code so she could make a secure call through their satellite network. Espo and Ryan were also informed the good news, and they told Lanie.

They all stopped back at Hunt's to take shifts changing from their mission gear into dinner attire. A Verbanski team showed up early with an appropriate wardrobe. Hunt, who had joined them there, complained that even more people knew the location of his hideout. Casey said he should stop whining.

Changed out of his mission attire, Hartley headed out to catch the first charter, back to his daughter. Apparently, he was officially off the no-fly list, but looking like person who used to be on the FBI's most-wanted list wasn't worth the risk of taking commercial.

Hunt turned down dinner too, heading to one of those jobs that retired spies did well. It sounded like it wasn't much of a retirement. At least his granddaughter met him and he had a solemn goodbye with his son who actually know who he was this time, as opposed to the time a stranger gave him a book when Castle was young.

Honestly, she thought there would be more awkwardness between the remaining New Yorkers and the spies. They were friends, but from very different worlds. Chuck, while a little socially awkward and not used to social facilitator responsibilities, did his best to make them feel at ease. The two groups didn't completely meld, but that wasn't surprising considering Rick's and Kate's need to hover around Alexis to help her through the situation.

Near the end of the meal (How many courses were there?) Chuck startled in his chair with a yelp, almost as if he had been poked. Right after, he excused himself, and Sarah said they had to leave. He talked to the waiter to pay, and Castle started up to help. That's when they found it was all complementary.

Castle offered again to pay for his daughter's rescue. Chuck said it wasn't necessary for a friend. They had an alternative revenue stream anyway. His last minute hacking of the Volkov network had more than covered the costs. Carmichael Industries' expenses were not a problem, even before the rewards for criminal organization takedowns, and they still made a good profit. Also, the NYPD policeman's ball had enough money to cover the next few years, the fallen officer's fund was in the best shape it had been in ever, and the Joanna Beckett scholarship fund had a huge, secure, anonymous donation. That was just scraps from what Chuck said he found. The bulk of the money, all of which remained behind, would now be frozen for the prosecution of Volkov and those he hired.

Sarah told Kate quietly not to worry. She'd let her know if things changed or they needed her help. There was no need to clarify what that was about.

Alexis surprised them all by joining them by the exit before they left. She had to thank Chuck and Sarah with hugs. She started towards Casey for a quick hug, but stopped when she saw his expression and heard his grunt. When she backed off, he smiled and said she was very welcome.

Casey left to catch his flight back to Eastern Europe and his job, girlfriend, or both.

Chuck and Sarah were very gone shortly after, with Sarah possessively dragging Chuck away. Based on his expression, he didn't mind a bit.

Beckett was left with the Castles. Rick might bring her back to Europe someday, but until then there was only one thing left to do.

Return home.


End file.
